Fauna's Fate
by nas-iiN
Summary: Waking up on his 5th birthday covered in animal tattoos results in Vernon abandoning Harry at an orphanage. Are they simply tattoos? Of course not. An AU tale of a very different life for Harry Potter
1. In which Harry's life changes for ever

Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.

There are many things in the world that humanity does not, and will never understand. One such example is fate. In a place inconceivable to mere humans, the collected beings known as 'The Gods' all stood in their places around a huge, circular, stone table. The slab of rock was a full hundred feet in circumference and approximately thirty feet across its diameter. Covering the entire table top was a map of the world, complete with mountains and seas, weather systems and cities. It wasn't the usual view of the world, as one might expect to see in an atlas, but was marked up as the wizarding world. Cities of importance to the magical community were shown, as were the twelve magical schools that existed around the globe. Those Gods around the table were the powers that ruled over it, determining the fate of witches and wizards everywhere. These were the powers-that-be, the beings who controlled fate. At one position around the table stood the God for Hate, and he was grumbling to himself.

"Come on, Hate, it's been three and a half years," called the God for Love from a few places down the table. "And it's not as if your guy didn't have a good run before then anyway."

"Be quiet, Love. And just you wait. My champion will return, and when he does, he's going to make yours suffer." Hate growled evilly at his opposite in the celestial host.

"What? You've already bound his powers to a condition that he falls in love before they are unleashed. Chances are your champion will have found a way back before mine has even had the chance to love anyone."

"Exactly, Love. You aren't as stupid as I thought."

"Stuff it, Hate. Love always triumphs over hate and you know it…."

From across the table, another god watched this exchange with curiosity. The God for Fauna was generally loathed to get mixed up in the petty squabbling that had perpetuated over the millennia between Love and Hate. Usually, she played little part in this game of life, concerned only when catastrophic events threatened her beloved animal kingdom. At this time, however, completely on a whim, Fauna decided to have a bit of fun. She would not be helping either cause, for her actions could be seen as either a curse or a blessing, depending on your point of view. She waited patiently until the dice of fate was in her hands…

Raymond Smith was a man in his late twenties, although his greying hair, thin physique and wearied face gave the impression he was nearing his fortieth year. Life had clearly taken its toll on this young man, a life which had had its fill of tests, tragedies and betrayals. There was little of value left in Raymond Smith's life, but what little there was he would protect with his life. He had to; there was no-one else left.

Ray, as he was known to those he worked with and for, worked a night shift as a security guard on an industrial complex in an uninspiring town in Surrey. The pay wasn't substantial, but it was enough to get through the week until next little brown envelope was passed his way. Armed with a torch and his wits, five nights a week Ray Smith wandered around the silent warehouses and factory buildings, passing the hours patiently until morning, when he could resume his vigil, watching over the boy.

During the daytime, and throughout the weekend, Ray sat in his car and watched the house where the boy lived. Several years ago, he had acquired a second-hand Ford Sierra for this very purpose. Every day, the white saloon car with the beginnings of rust forming around the wheel arches parked in a road called Privet Drive, outside number seven. The residents obviously could see the car, but strangely no-one ever paid it any heed, as if some strange force compelled them not to notice it. This meant, of course, that Raymond Smith could spend as long as he wanted simply watching the house where the boy lived with his relatives – number four.

One resident, however, did notice Ray's car. It was of course, the boy that Ray himself was watching. Each weekday morning, as the woman, her fat, blond-haired son and the boy left the house to walk to the local school, the boy's startling green eyes would stare across the street to the battered white car. Ray's tired brown eyes met the boy's piercing green, and for a split second each day they seemed to share this moment of solidarity. The boy never spoke of the strange man in the old white car to his guardians. He never spoke to them or anyone hardly at all, as it happened, for reasons Ray Smith would not discover for several years.

July 31st 1985 was the boy's fifth birthday. It wouldn't be celebrated as a child's birthday should be. There were to be no balloons, or a party, or cards and presents. No, the boy's guardians, his aunt and uncle, would not acknowledge this day at all. The boy himself was as oblivious as his relatives were dismissive. This day would not be a day of celebration, although that did not stop it from being exceptional, and perhaps one of the most important days in the young boy's life.

As usual, he woke when the vast forms of his uncle and cousin started crashing about on the upper floor. Both being extensively overweight, it gave the impression that a herd of elephants were stomping about in the rooms above. In the cupboard under the stairs, the light of the early morning sun filtered through the air-vent in the door, and the boy watched the particles of dust as they danced in the rays of light, blown every way as he exhaled. It was only when a swift movement caught his eye that the boy's attention moved from the dancing dust to a spider that was making its way silently along his left arm.

The boy had grown used to spiders, having spent the last few years sleeping in the house's under stairs cupboard, and at first glance this one didn't seem particularly different. It was a bit bigger than usual, perhaps, and maybe a different shape, but in the dingy light, the five year old did not notice these things. What he did notice, however, was very strange. Very strange indeed.

As the spider stepped lightly along the boy's arm, it was not the feelings of tiny feet on his skin that he could sense, but the feeling of soft skin against his own feet. For a boy of only a few years, it was extremely difficult to understand. It was as if he was experiencing the spider's own sense of touch. Unable to remain still, the boy's arm moved involuntarily, yet he experienced the feeling of unsteady ground. As the spider stepped deftly from the boy's exposed forearm onto the fabric of his nightwear, the sensation changed. The boy could feel the new texture underfoot. Hard to accept, though it was, and nowhere near knowing why or how, the small boy concluded that he was definitely feeling whatever the spider was touching.

The birthday boy wished that the spider would climb down on to the wooden floorboards at the bottom of the cupboard door, just to be sure of his conclusions. To his astonishment, the spider obliged, and crossed the boys slender torso, clambered over his other arm and lowered itself to the floor. Instantly, the sensation changed from fabric to nothing, as it descended, to the cold dusty wood. The spider would go, the boy learned, wherever he willed it to, and he was so absorbed with his interaction with the eight-legged beast that he didn't even notice the pachydermal steps of his uncle coming down the stairs.

"BOY!" yelled Vernon Dursley. "GET OUT HERE NOW!"

_"I guess you'd better go away somewhere,"_ thought the boy, thinking of the spider and hoping that it would reappear later. What the boy did not expect, was for the arachnid to dart back onto his body, up his left arm and onto his shoulder at the base of his neck. The sensation of soft skin under his feet returned as the spider crossed his narrow shoulder, but then evaporated. Instinctively, the boy reached his right hand up to his left shoulder where the spider had been a moment before, but it appeared to have gone. Maybe it had carried on down his back and into the dark corners of the cupboard.

It was only as the young boy climbed out of the dank and dark of the Dursley's under stairs cupboard that he noticed something. Something that was going to cause an almighty rumpus in the Dursley household. Coiling around Harry's right wrist was a snake, or at least an image of one. The head of the serpent stretched down his tiny hand, its mouth open, fangs bared and tongue flicking outwards. The body then coiled twice around his narrow wrist and forearm before the tail rested half way towards the elbow.

The boy knew at once that he would be in trouble. Of course, he had played no part in the arrival of this tattoo, which had appeared during the night. Trying desperately to cover the black ink with his left hand, he stole as quietly as possible into the kitchen, in answer to his uncle's summons. Vernon Dursley was hidden behind a vast newspaper as the boy crept towards his place at the table. Petunia Dursley was bustling around the oven and hob, preparing a veritable feast for her husband and son, who was yet to appear downstairs for breakfast. The wooden kitchen chair was too heavy for the small boy to lift, and his enforced dragging of the seat across the tiled floor made a squeaking noise that caused Vernon Dursley to look over his paper at his nephew.

"What are you doing boy? Don't drag the chair across the floor like that, I'm trying to read."

The nervous boy looked sheepish as he climbed awkwardly into the chair, still trying to cover the snake tattoo on his right wrist and hand with his left.

"What are you fumbling about for, boy?" continued the unpleasant ogre of a man. "And what's that guilty look on your face? What have you done now boy?" Vernon asked menacingly.

As Vernon Dursley stared aggressively at his nephew, trying to discern what heinous crimes against normality the boy had committed, the boy looked down at the grain of the pine table, and kept his hands hidden in his lap. Suddenly, Petunia Dursley shrieked, in a mixture of fright, horror and surprise.

"V...V…Vernon look. There….on the boy's neck." The long-faced woman was still stood across the kitchen by the stove. One hand clasped to her mouth in a gesture of shock, the other was pointing shakily at the back of the boy's neck. Unknown to the boy himself, a second tattoo was there.

"What is it Petunia? Turn around boy so I can see," ordered Vernon. The five year old boy swivelled around in the chair so that his back was towards his uncle. This meant that he was now facing his aunt, and could clearly see the look of revulsion that had replaced the shock from moments before.

"What have you done, you little freak?" hissed Vernon Dursley. The boy instinctively reached his left hand up to the side of his neck, trying to feel what had caused such consternation with his relatives, but of course there was nothing to feel. Ashamed of whatever was now on his neck, the boy's hand stayed there, vainly trying to cover what was causing offence.

"Answer me boy! What did you do?" commanded the reddening Vernon Dursley. As the boy began to shake his head in response, Petunia gave another cry, before stalking over to the table and grabbing her nephew's right arm and forcibly lifting it into the air.

"Another one, Vernon. And just as disgusting as the thing on his neck."

At this point, the young boy guessed that he must have another picture on his neck, like the one that had appeared on his wrist. He was too young to deduce that this may be connected to that strange spider. He began to wonder what this second picture might be, when his aunt's shrill voice continued its rant.

"Did you draw these…these…abominations on yourself to frighten Dudley? You must have stolen the pens. Not only are you a disgusting freak but a thief as well." The boy shook his head throughout his aunt's diatribe, barely resisting the urge to break down and cry at her harsh words.

"Is that it or are there any more?" continued the horse-faced woman. "Take off your shirt so we can see what other disfigurements you've inflicted upon us."

The boy was now stood with his back to the kitchen doorway. Petunia and Vernon Dursley stepped back so they could get a good look at him, as if he were some side-show freak to be gawked at. In their ignorance, they were also reluctant to get too close in case they were infected with this new level of freakishness, despite Petunia's assumption that the images were drawn on with a pen.

Petunia's revolted face contorted even further if that was possible as her nephew removed his too-big t-shirt. Vernon huffed and puffed in disgust as the boy's exposed torso revealed a further two images. On his chest, covering most of his undeveloped right pectoral muscle was a black wolf. The image was 'drawn' from the side, showing the beast's flank and legs. Its head was turned to the side, so was looking out from the boy's body, rather than looking forward and in profile. The confused and frightened child looked down at the wolf, and saw a shaggy black dog. He was busy staring down at his own chest when his aunt's voice spoke again.

"There, on his other arm…"

On the outside of his left upper arm, just down from the shoulder a fourth image resided. This one depicted a falcon of some kind. Like the wolf and the snake, it too was black. The bird was shown as if in flight, its talons outstretched towards some unseen prey and its beak open in full battle cry.

It was at this point that Dudley Dursley, the boy's obese and spoiled cousin, arrived in the kitchen doorway. His usual call asking what was for breakfast was cut off mid flow when he saw his smaller cousin's bare back a few feet into the kitchen.

"It's alright, Popkin," called Petunia to her beloved son. Dudley did not respond to her, however, but simply raised his hand at pointed at his cousin's back, a look of incredulity on his face.

"What is it Dudders?" asked Vernon, but without waiting for an answer he bellowed at his nephew. "TURN AROUND."

The boy slowly turned so he was facing his cousin, and away from his aunt and uncle. Dudley gasped in surprise when he saw the wolf, but that was nothing compared to Petunia's half scream and Vernon's whispered "Oh my God."

Covering almost his entire back was the face of a black panther. The face was staring straight out from his back, its mouth open in aggression, and teeth bared.

Petunia Dursley was the first to recover. "Listen to me, you little freak. Get upstairs to the bathroom and start scrubbing. You'd better pray that whatever you've done to yourself comes off again." The boy didn't need a second invitation to get out of that kitchen, away from the staring eyes of his 'family'. He raced upstairs to the bathroom and reached up to turn on the taps. Glancing to his left towards the mirror, he caught a glimpse of the image on his neck. It was a spider's web, and in the centre was a spider.

The child still did not realise that the spider he had played with earlier was identical to the image on his back left side of his neck. He quickly returned to the job at hand though, and took a flannel from the side of the bath and began scrubbing at the snake tattoo. Obviously the scouring had no effect on the presence of the dark pigment.

_"Please come off,"_ thought the boy desperately, as he paused to hold the flannel under the running water. Unbelievably, the image of the spider became more solid, if that was possible. In fact, it should not have been, but the inked image steadily became more lifelike, until it looked more like a two dimensional, but nonetheless real snake wrapped around his lower arm. All of a sudden, the two dimensional snake was solid – a real snake coiled around the boy's slender wrist. He watched in amazement as the snake's fangs folded back and its mouth closed. The serpent's head lifted from the back of his hand and turned to stare into the boys eyes, its tongue flicking ceaselessly. Where its head had been, there was no hint of a tattoo remaining on the boy's skin. The serpent was virtually black in colour, was perhaps eighteen inches long and about an inch in diameter. The boy was surprised by the dry warmth of the animal's body, still being of an age that thought snakes were cold and slimy creatures.

In the same way the boy had felt what the spider felt, he now seemed to be tasting what the snake could taste. The darting tongue could discern taste of the boy's sweat in the air, the heady scents of a perfumed soap, and the chemical aroma of a man's shampoo. At first, the odd sensations threatened to overwhelm the boy, leaving him feeling nauseous, but the feeling was forgotten when the snake hissed.

_"Ssssomething comessss."_

He could understand the snake. He knew it had hissed and not spoken, for that would be impossible. Even a five year old understood that a snake could not speak like a person. His naïve thought processes were soon interrupted when the heavy footsteps of the boy's over-sized cousin pounded up the stairs. Unsure of what to do about the snake, the boy looked towards the bathroom door, through which his cousin was likely to burst at any moment. The thudding steps reached the landing and approached the bathroom. The door was pushed open with a bang.

"Daddy says you're to get back down to the kitchen now, freak."

The smaller child looked back at his wrist, and was relieved to see that the real snake had gone, and was a picture on his hand and wrist once more.

The boy shivered slightly in the coolness of the early morning. The height of summer it may be, but the mornings were still fresh before the sun raised high in the sky. From around eleven o'clock, the heat would begin to feel uncomfortable, but that was still a few hours away, and the five year old boy's shirt lay on the kitchen floor where it had been dropped as he bolted from the room. He followed his unkind cousin down the stairs, trembling with cold but mostly from terrified anticipation. His aunt and uncle were not forgiving people, except when their own son was concerned, and the boy fully expected to be punished heavily for this unexplainable occurrence.

"Well?" snapped Petunia Dursley as the boy followed his waddling cousin back into the kitchen. The small child with hair as black as coal looked down at the floor and shook his head.

"You little freak! You did this on purpose to cause us trouble didn't you?" Petunia marched towards her nephew and grabbed his arm, causing his face to contort in pain. As she dragged him towards the cupboard under the stairs, her rant continued.

"You will stay in there until your uncle and I decide what to do with you." There was venom in her voice by now, pure unadulterated hatred. Despite the precarious nature of his situation, and the likelihood of an extremely unpleasant punishment to follow, the boy was relieved to be back in the dark of the cupboard. This was his space, more so than any other. At least for a few moments he was away from the loathing, staring eyes of his 'family' and hidden away in the one place that was familiar and comforting to him. His aunt had closed the ventilation grill on the cupboard door, so that the only light was that which crept through the crack at the bottom of the door. In the dusty gloom, the boy could vaguely make out darkness on his wrist where the snake picture lay. As he lay down on his tiny bed, the boy remembered the spider that he played with earlier.

_"Spider?"_ he thought to himself. After barely a moment, he felt it. The sensation of soft skin under his feet.

_"Come down here to the bottom of the door so I can see you," _he thought. The boy felt various sensations as the spider obediently moved across the boy's shoulders and down his arm to the floorboards and into the chink of light at the foot of the cupboard door, where it stood expectantly. The boy shuffled around so he was lying on his right side, propped on his right elbow and saw the arachnid properly for the first time. He tried talking to it, but nothing happened unless he was giving an instruction to do something, but in the dark of the cupboard there wasn't much the spider could do. The spider didn't need to be spoken to out loud anyway. The boy could merely think his instructions for the spider to obey him.

Concluding the spider did not speak, he thought once again about the snake. The snake had definitely spoken to him, or at least he had understood the snake's hiss.

_"I wish the snake were here again,"_ he thought to himself and within a few moments, he felt the warm sensation against his wrist once more, as the snake tattoo morphed into reality. The boy's naïve mind failed to grasp the enormity of what had just transpired, and consequently he responded to the snake's presence quite like one might greet a playmate.

"Hi!"

_"You mussst sssspeak in thissss language, chossssen one."_

"OK. How?"

_"Jusssst want to do it."_

The boy screwed up his face in concentration, desperately trying to understand how to comply with the snake's instruction.

_"Issss thissss right?"_

_"Yessss, you are now sssspeaking like one of us."_

_"Why can I talk ssssnake? I couldn't talk to the sssspider."_

_"I know not why. You can command the sssspider, the wolf, the falcon, the panther and mysssself with your thoughtssss, but how you can talk to me issss a mysssstery."_

The spider, which had been forgotten by the boy as his attention focussed on the snake instead, had returned to its position its web – the tattooed web on the boy's neck. It was fortunate that it had returned, for the boy had not heard the leaden footsteps of his uncle pound across the hall to the stairs.

The enraged man yanked open the cupboard door with such vehemence that the boy jumped in alarm, which is hard to do when half-lying down inside a small cupboard. Expecting to feel the fullest extent of his uncle's wrath, the boy tried in vain to shrink back into the cupboard. The strong podgy fingers closed around his upper left arm, however, and heft him out of the cupboard and onto his feet in the hall in one swift, practiced motion.

Unable to suppress his emotion as the pain of his uncle's grip seized his slender shoulder, the boy grimaced, but desperately managed to fight back the whimper that was longing to escape his lips.

"What was all that hissing about, boy?" demanded the great whale of a man. As the frightened boy quivered in his uncle's shadow, the bullying man continued to railroad his nephew. "More of your disgusting freakiness, I'll bet. Now then you little waste of space, get in the kitchen so your aunt and I can talk to you." With that instruction, Vernon Dursley turned on his heel and marched into the kitchen.

The boy followed obediently, and instantly went to retrieve his t-shirt from where it had previously been discarded. Dudley Dursley sat at the kitchen table, gleefully stuffing his already multi-chinned face with crumpets. Petunia Dursley was in her usual place – leaning against the units to the right of the oven. Her arms were crossed and her lips drawn tightly. Her usual pale complexion was unusually tinged with red; the day's revelations had clearly been distressing for such a well-to-do member of the community.

Vernon Dursley took his place at the table and reached for a crumpet for himself. The boy stood to the side of the table and struggled into the old t-shirt that he wore practically all the time. In fact, he only really took it off when it was being washed, a task which his aunt conceded had to be done occasionally. Eventually, when the boy was clothed once more, and Vernon Dursley had consumed his buttered crumpet, Petunia spoke. Her tone of voice wasn't the sweet, sickly one she reserved for Dudley, or even the spiteful tone the boy usually received. This time, for the first time, Petunia Dursley spoke with complete indifference.

"We have put up with your unnaturalness for too long, and we will have it no longer. You no longer live here. You're a freak, like your parents. I hope I never have to see you again."

The boy looked up at his aunt in horror. He didn't like his aunt and uncle, and was old enough to realise that they didn't like him, but his barely five year old mind couldn't comprehend the meaning of his aunt's words. Where did he live then? The answer soon became apparent, as Vernon Dursley shot up from the table, melted butter dribbling down his moustache and snatched up his car keys from the kitchen worktop.

"Get your shoes on, boy," growled the man, as he strode past the shell-shocked child and headed into the hall. The boy obeyed mechanically, as he had been conditioned to do over the last few years. Disobedience led to punishment; that was a lesson that a five year old could understand. Barely a few minutes later, Vernon Dursley's car pulled out of the driveway of number four, Privet Drive. One small passenger sat in the back seat, alone and confused. The Dursley's shiny silver Volvo moved slowly passed an old white Ford Sierra. Vernon Dursley scarcely noticed the other vehicle, but his passenger stared pleadingly at the brown-eyed man who sat in the driver's seat. For the briefest of moments their eyes met, and Raymond Smith knew at once that something important had transpired. Immediately he started up the engine of his old car, and prepared to follow the boy, wherever they were headed.

Vernon Dursley drove north towards London, completely unaware that he had been followed the entire way by a brown haired man in an old white Ford Sierra. He was more concerned with the activities of his passenger, his five year old nephew. The boy was characteristically still and silent, and passed the majority of the journey staring dispassionately out of the car's windows.

The boy watched with little interest as the suburban drabness of Little Whinging was quickly left behind. The arable fields of the South-Eastern county followed, but these were soon superseded by the conurbations that marked the beginnings of London. The regular houses and town buildings gave way to imposing streets in the centre of the city, as Vernon Dursley guided the silver Volvo through the traffic of central London.

The boy regarded all the different buildings and monuments in the city with curiousity, having never been out of Little Whinging before today. He wondered at the enormity of everything. Every street was lined with shops, houses or offices that were all four or five stories high at least. Then there were the apartment blocks that rose high into the sky, and the office blocks, and a huge church with a giant dome on the top. Everything in London was on a grand scale, and as the boy realised his uncle was now looking for somewhere specific, the size of everything began to frighten him. Surely they were not expecting him to live here?

After several minutes of muttering and grumbling, Vernon Dursley brought the car to a halt at the side of a wide road. They had driven through the commercial district and had come to a more residential area of London. Occasional houses were being used as offices for small professional firms, accountancy practices, law firms and the like. The houses that lined both sides of this street made up a resplendent looking Georgian terrace. Each individual dwelling was tall, with five stories, and narrow. They would no doubt go back a long way from the road as well. The door to the house outside which uncle and nephew were now parked was painted black, although the paint was old and peeling at the edges. To the side of the door, on the stone of the surround, was a brass sign, etched into which were the words:

**ST CHRISTOPHER'S ORPHANAGE**

**A HOME FOR LOST SOULS**

Vernon Dursley twisted his bulky frame around so that he could talk to the silent boy.

"Listen, boy. You get out of the car and go up to that black door. You wait until you can't see the car anymore before you knock on the door. Do you understand?"

The boy nodded vaguely, choosing to remain silent as usual.

"Finally we'll be rid of you. Now get out, you worthless little freak, and remember what I just told you." Vernon Dursley almost had glee in his voice as his spoke to his nephew for the very last time. As the boy struggled to push open the heavy door of the large car, Vernon Dursley turned back round in his seat and put the car into gear. As soon as he heard the thud of the door closing, he took off, without a second glance or thought to the five year old boy he had just heartlessly abandoned at an orphanage in the middle of London.

The boy stood on the pavement watching the silver car disappearing up the wide street. Even after his uncle had long gone, he stood there, waiting for the Volvo to return. After about twenty minutes, the boy wiped away a tear that had begun to slide down his cheek, and turned to look at the building he was to live in for the next few years.

The house was made of a grey stone, rather than the bright, modern bricks of his aunt and uncle's house. There were six steps up to the black front door with the peeling paint, such that the ground floor was well above street level. A gate in a metal railing led to steps down to another door into the house and a basement window. The door was unused and boarded over however, and rubbish and leaves from the street above collected in the small space at the foot of the stone steps.

Including the basement, the building appeared to have five floors, each with large, old sash windows facing onto the street. As with the front door, the window frames were tired and in need of attention, as they were dirty, peeling and rotten in occasional places. This was attention that a church funded orphanage could not afford, however. Although the boy could not tell this from the outside, this house and the two to its left were knocked through inside to become one address. The orphanage took up three of these old Georgian townhouses, from their basements to rooftop gardens. Eventually, after several further minutes of deliberation, the boy crossed the wide pavement and slowly climbed the steps. At the top, he stretched up to reach an ornate but tarnished door knocker.

Down the street, Raymond Smith watched the heart-breaking scene unfold with a lump in his throat. Having realised where the Dursley brute was bringing the boy, Ray willed him to walk up the steps to the orphanage. It was far too dangerous for a five year old boy to wander off into London – he would be safe here. As the small figure finally chose to knock on the black door, Ray felt a sense of relief. He felt guilty that he could not offer the boy a place to stay, it was simply too dangerous. He needed to make some modifications to his house in Devon first, and then he would return and see about taking the boy to live with him.

The main office to the St. Christopher's orphanage was situated in the first room off the hallway, on the right hand side as you faced the building. It was a large, high room; with space enough for four desks, cupboards, book shelves and filing cabinets. The furniture was generally old and tatty, and largely reflected the state of the outside of the building. Clearly St. Christopher's did not have spare cash to lavish on soft furnishings or outward appearances. Midday sunlight streamed through the large sash window in the front wall of the office. An old, slatted blind hung awkwardly across the top quarter of the glass, but its tangled cord and apparent fragility meant it was never touched, even on the brightest of days.

Each of the four desks was laden with files, in-trays and other typical office paraphernalia. It was behind one of these busy desks that Elizabeth Rutherford was sitting, as she read through one of several files that were scattered in front of her. Occasionally she would make a note in it, or jot down a comment on a notepad. Mrs. Rutherford had been an orphan herself, but now, as she approached her sixtieth year, it was of little consequence. She was a tall, striking woman with mostly grey hair that was lazily pulled back into a ponytail. Her brown eyes gave a soft, comforting quality to her round face.

She had spent her early years in an orphanage such as this, before moving on to a foster family at the age of eleven. From then on, she had had a good life, full of opportunities. Her foster parents were God-fearing folk, sensible and kind. They believed in the teachings of the bible and brought up Elizabeth with traditional Christian values. She was always provided with everything she needed, and occasionally received some of the things she wanted, too. Elizabeth studied theology at university, where she met the man who was to become her husband. They lived happy, fulfilling lives until Mark Rutherford succumbed to cancer, while only in his late forties. Relying on her faith, and the support of her church, Elizabeth soon started on building a new dream – St. Christopher's Orphanage, and now, after fourteen years, she was looking after thirty-two young orphans, although many more had come and gone in that time.

It was just after noon when she was disturbed from her reading by the clunking sound of someone knocking on the front door, so she concisely placed her file down on the desk and headed towards the hallway. The inside of the peeling black door was equally shabby as the front. Dust and cobwebs gathered in the corners of the hall, and old grey carpet was worn and dirty. Mrs. Rutherford released the catch on the lock, and tugged open the heavy door, overcoming the stiff and rusted hinges with a well practiced yank.

It took a moment for the woman to glance down and notice the small boy looking up at her. For an instant, she was mesmerised by the intensity in the child's fiercely green eyes; their depth utterly absorbing. With a shake of her head, the orphanage's principal forced herself to regard the rest of the boy – he was young, perhaps four or five and dressed in ill-fitting and dirty clothes. His unkempt hair and distressed features suggested a recent traumatic experience for the poor lad. Of course, Elizabeth Rutherford did not realise that every single day had been potentially traumatic for this particular child.

"Hello young man," Mrs Rutherford began in her friendliest tone. "Can I help you with something?"

The black haired boy said nothing, but continued to stare pleadingly up at the kindly middle-aged lady before him.

"Do you know what this place is?"

The boy shook his head slightly, his gaze instantly snapping back to meet the eyes of the woman above him.

"How did you get here?"

Again the boy with the messy black hair and startling eyes said nothing, but at this question his head turned and he looked wistfully up the street for a few seconds, before turning back to kind lady.

"Did someone leave you here?" she asked with a resigned sigh, knowing full well that this boy was about to join her collection of waifs and strays. The orphanage was already full, running on the goodwill of the church and struggling to find staff, but this boy's gaze had hypnotised Elizabeth Rutherford. She doubted if she would ever be able to say no to this boy.

As the boy began to nod, she crouched down to address him on his own level. "Well then, young man, I think perhaps you had better come inside."

The older woman led the silent child into the office, where she cleared a stack of files from an old wooden chair with a padded seat and gestured to him that he should sit down. The boy's eyes darted around the room as the lady busied herself clearing one of the desks and then retrieving some items from a cupboard. As his hands gripped the wooden armrests of the chair, the boy could feel the grain of the wood, how it was worn smooth by many hundreds of hands, over the years. The air in this funny house tasted very slightly dusty in his mouth, a stark contrast to the pristine cleanliness of his aunt and uncle's home, under stairs cupboard excepting.

After a few minutes of shuffling things about, locating specific pieces of paper and, to the boy's pleasant surprise, a half-eaten packet of biscuits which she placed on the edge of the desk, in front of where the boy was sitting, Mrs. Rutherford sat at her desk.

"Please help yourself to a Rich Tea," the lady said, as she began to sort her newly acquired sheets of paper into an empty file. The boy reached forward nervously and fumbled for a moment with the packet, trying to work one of the smooth, pale biscuits loose. Finally, he sat back in the seat with his prize, and began to nibble gingerly around the edge, clearly trying to make it last as long as possible.

"Now then, young man. Will you tell me your name please?" The boy looked blankly back at the woman.

"Your name? What is your name?" Still the boy did not respond, but continued to look straight back at her. In her surprise at not getting an answer, she missed the boy's slight shrug. With many years' worth of experience dealing with difficult and unresponsive children, Elizabeth Rutherford changed her approach.

"Would you like to live here, have a nice warm bed, plenty of meals, and lots of other boys and girls to make friends with?" She spoke with the kindest, softest voice she could muster, and looked back at the boy with a tender smile and kind eyes. The boy's eyes bore into her own, but Mrs. Rutherford held his gaze, silently thanking the Lord for giving her strength and willpower. Eventually, after what may have been as long as a few minutes, the boy spoke for the first time that day, in the quietest of whispers.

"Yes please."

The voice was soft and quiet, yes, but still it was determined and hopeful at the same time. Letting out a long sigh, the old administrator beamed at her new charge.

"You're still going to have to tell me your name, I'm afraid."

"I…I…don't know." The boy stumbled over these three simple words, almost as if ashamed of himself. Mrs. Rutherford was shocked by the boy's lack of self-awareness and esteem.

"The people who left you here, what did they call you?"

The small child looked down into his lap. After a pause, and a hitch of his shoulders, he spoke for a third time, but this time was the quietest of all.

"Boy or….freak."

The aging woman feigned deafness as she struggled to deal internally with the words that had just managed to escape the boy's lips. Hiding her anger that humanity could be so cruel to a tiny child, she forged on, deliberately not acknowledging the boy's answer.

"Well, how about we call you Adam, that's a good biblical name for a handsome young boy. Adam…Black. How does that sound? I have to have names to put in the files so we get funding…"

The boy didn't really understand the old woman's words about funding and files. He liked his new name though – Adam Black. After the woman had spent a few minutes writing on forms and talking about things the boy didn't comprehend, she suddenly shut her file, placed a lid on her pen and pushed her seat back from the desk.

"Come, young Adam Black, let us go and find you a room to sleep in, some clean clothes to wear and someone your own age to be your friend." Elizabeth Rutherford took Black gently by the hand, and led him back out into the hallway, up the stairs and into the heart of the orphanage.

Meanwhile, outside on the street, Raymond Smith was waiting. He had watched the woman have a conversation with the boy, and he had seen how she compassionately welcomed him inside. Now he was waiting to make sure the boy wasn't to be ejected again, and be left alone on the streets of London. After several hours of conflicting emotions, Raymond Smith turned the key of his old Sierra, revved the engine, and set off to do battle with the traffic of England's capital city, leaving the boy he had been watching for the last few years in the capable hands of St. Christopher.


	2. In which the years pass and lots happens

A/N Just wanted to say a big thank you to those of you who reviewed the last chapter. There's going to have to be more if you want chapter 3 though!

A massive thankyou to my fabulous beta, Starry Night Blue, who rocks.

Chapter 2: In which young Harry Potter learns about animals and other things

Elizabeth Rutherford led five year old Adam Black up to the top floor of St. Christopher's Orphanage. The staircases, hallways and landings were all equally drab and dreary as those on the ground floor. Several times, Adam heard the sounds of children laughing, shouting and on one occasion, crying from behind the many closed doors that the aging lady took him past. The pair stopped at a nondescript white-washed wooden door. Just like all the other doors they had passed, this one was dusty, its paint was in need of a new coat, and the once shiny brass handle was tarnished and dull.

There was no sound coming from behind this door, Adam noticed as he waited for Mrs. Rutherford to retrieve a set of keys from the pocket of her sensible, grey cardigan. As she rifled through the numerous keys, Adam glanced down the landing and noticed a pair of eyes peering at him from a doorway that had been opened just enough for a girl about his own age to stick her head out. The girl gave him a big smile before disappearing back behind the door once more. By this time, Mrs. Rutherford had located the key and opened the door, whereby she proceeded into the room beyond, which turned out to be a room full of clothes.

"Well come in then. We need to find you some more clothes," stated the principal. "Ones that fit you," she added as an afterthought.

Adam followed the woman into the clothes room where he stopped to look around in wonder. Every square inch of the ten foot square room was taken up with clothes. Around the floor were shoes ranging from tiny baby shoes up to shoes for teenagers. They were all second hand, but all were in better condition than the pair of handed-down, holey plimsolls Adam was currently wearing. Racks upon racks of t-shirts, shirts, tops, jumpers, trousers, skirts, dresses, shorts and coats were arranged in increasing sizes across two sides of the room. On another wall was shelf upon shelf of socks, underwear and pyjamas. All these items were new; it appeared to Adam, who was wondering if he was going to be given some new clothes of his own. On the wall with the door were cupboards containing clean towels and dressing gowns. These were not new, but were clean and perfectly functional, although they lacked a little softness.

"Right then, Adam." Elizabeth Rutherford's voice raised the boy from his bewilderment. "Let's start with underwear shall we." The black haired boy nodded in agreement, not having the daring to disagree with the woman, who was well into her stride now as an efficient carer and administrator. As it happened, she was trying desperately to focus on the job in hand and not risk looking into the boy's eyes, lest she would be so distracted by the tortured soul that could be seen there, that she would not be able to care for him objectively.

Adam held out his arms as his newfound guardian loaded him up with pants, socks, vests and pyjamas, before moving on to the rails of clothes for children his age.

"Any colour you prefer?"

"Black," mumbled Adam, after a pause.

"Black? Are you sure?" the matron queried. She turned to look at the boy and saw a look of determination there she knew she couldn't argue with. Something about those eyes simply controlled her. Luckily, Adam chose that moment to put the pile of underwear down next to him, ready to hold whatever she gave him next. As he did so, Elizabeth turned back to the clothes rails and began sifting through, looking for a selection of black items to clothe her newest charge.

Finally, after what seemed like and inordinately long time to the five year old, the pair left the clothes room, both laden with all the clothes, shoes, towels and a dressing gown that Adam would need. After Mrs. Rutherford had awkwardly managed to lock the door while she balanced her pile of things on one arm, she led the boy further down the landing. Adam glanced behind him towards the doorway the little girl had been peeking out of, and was surprised to see her smiling face looking at him once again.

Five doors down from the clothing room and on the opposite side of the corridor, Mrs. Rutherford guided the boy into his new bedroom. "This will be your bedroom, Adam. What do you think?"

Adam failed to respond to the older woman, but she was getting used to the fact that this boy didn't say very much. She did notice how he regarded the room with an amount of awe, as if he hadn't seen a bedroom before. But then, judging by how he had arrived here, and the fact that he was an orphan, perhaps he had never had slept in a bedroom before now. He wouldn't be the first to have come to the orphanage like that, and sadly, he wouldn't be the last.

The boy's eyes swept around the small room. It was small by the standards of his whale of a cousin, but to Adam, who could only remember the cupboard under the stairs, the room was huge. There was a bed, of course, a small desk and chair, a chest of drawers and a child's wardrobe. On one wall was a shelf, and opposite the door was a sash window. Adam's first sweep of the room identified all these things, but his second look round revealed more detail. There was a dark blue carpet on the floor. It wasn't thick and fluffy like his Aunt's but it was a step up from the cold, rough floorboards he was used to. The window was framed by blue curtains with stars and moons on, which matched the covers on the bed. This bed had a real pillow, too, not just an old cushion that nobody wanted anymore. Adam wondered if he could get into the bed right now, it looked so comfortable.

After those moments looking round the room, Adam followed Mrs. Rutherford's example and put the pile of clothes he was carrying on the bed, before looking at her expectantly.

"You wait here a moment, Adam. I'm just going to get someone I'd like you to meet."

Adam shrugged slightly at her words, and sat down on the bed as she headed out of the room. His hands absent-mindedly stroked the duvet cover, and he revelled in the softness of the fabric against his fingertips, while his eyes began scanning around the room once more.

Unlike the hallways and landings, Adam's bedroom was clean, and much brighter. The walls were painted a neutral but light cream colour. The furniture was only pine, but was in good order and had been kept free from dust and dirt. The window frame on the inside was in good repair, and recently repainted. Elizabeth Rutherford certainly diverted considerably more funds to the children's wellbeing than she did to the building's.

After a few minutes, Mrs. Rutherford returned to find Adam sitting on the bed, apparently staring into space. "Adam?" she called. "This is Grace. She would very much like to be your friend."

The boy quickly turned to look at the girl who stood in the doorway behind Mrs. Rutherford. It was the same girl who had been watching him from down the corridor, and, just as before, she had a big smile on her face. Adam couldn't help himself but smile at the girl in return, possibly the first genuine smile he had managed in many years. To hear that someone wanted to be his friend was like nectar to a bee, and something he had longed for, for as far back as he could remember.

"Well, I'll leave you two to get to know each other. Grace, help Adam to find his way around, and don't forget dinner at five thirty." 

"Yes, Mrs. Rutherford," answered the little girl politely. Turning back to Adam, her face still smiling infectiously, she soon instructed him in where to put all his new clothes and shoes, how his dirty clothes should go in the laundry basket in the corner, where to find the bathroom and toilet on this floor and many other similar functions. After explaining where everything was on the top floor, where their bedrooms were located, the tiny pair looked around the whole of the orphanage; Grace showing Adam the classrooms, the dining room, the common rooms, where the office was and how to get outside into the garden. After about an hour of looking around the old building, both children were starting to tire, having walked up and down many of the old building's staircases. Eventually, they arrived back at Adam's bedroom, where Grace asked him the question that had been on her lips for a while.

"What's that on your neck?" She pointed to the spider's web tattoo on the rear left side of Adam's neck.

Self-consciously, Adam reached up and rubbed the place he knew the spider and its web to be. "I think it's called a tat-too," Adam replied. Over the last hour or so, he had become more talkative with Grace than he had been with anyone before. She wasn't threatening, or dominating. She didn't look down on him and make him feel small or insignificant. Grace was just inquisitive, smiley and full of chatter, and Adam was swept along with it.

"It's creepy. Why do you have spider's web tat-too?"

"Don't know," the boy shrugged. "I've got more." Adam proceeded to take off his old t-shirt, causing Grace to gasp in surprise.

"I like the bird one," said Grace. "But the rest are a bit scary."

"I know. I don't know how I got them. I just woke up yesterday and they were there. My aunt and uncle were mad at me. Please don't tell anyone about them, will you."

"OK, Adam. I won't."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

The two five year olds talked for a while longer, until they moved to Grace's room to look at some of her books and play with her toys; things she had acquired since she had been staying at St. Christopher's. They looked out of the window and Grace showed Adam how to make shapes in the clouds. For the first time in his life, Harry Potter, now known as Adam Black, was happy,

Dinner at the orphanage was nothing spectacular, but it was wholesome, fresh and healthy. Adam received a portion appropriate to a boy of his age, rather than the miserly portions his aunt used to serve him with. Having missed lunch entirely, he was fairly hungry, but years of underfeeding had left the boy immune to the pangs of hunger. For children in the nursery aged five and under, they had to be in bed by half past seven. Mrs. Rutherford came to check Adam had everything he needed, and having provided him with his own toothbrush, paste, and soap, Adam Black was settled in for the first night of his new life.

It was during this time at the end of the day that young Adam secretly brought out the snake from his wrist. As soon as the snake told him he could do the same with the other tattoos, Adam spent every night with a falcon perched atop his wardrobe. A large and unusual spider made a web and resided in a dark corner underneath the functional wooden desk. A black wolf cub slept curled up on the end of the boy's duvet and a sleek and glossy, not quite fully grown, black panther slumbered on the floor by the side of the bed. The snake generally found a warm spot, underneath the desk where hot water pipes ran beneath the floorboards.

Although he could instruct the five creatures using mental suggestions, it was only the snake who could communicate in words. It was via the hissing language that Adam firstly learned the purpose of these magical creatures. The snake gave him the sense of taste, and represented cunning and ambition. The falcon was the gift of sight, but also stood for courage. The wolf brought the sense of smell, and the virtue of loyalty, whereas the panther provided hearing and represented intelligence. Finally the spider was to be his sense of touch, and embodied all of these virtues together.

During the evenings, when Adam was supposed to be going to sleep, he would let the two larger animals play; they would roll around, wrestle and chase each other about the small room. He would stroke the soft feathers of the falcon and share in hissed conversations with the small black snake.

As the weeks progressed, Adam started to notice changes in himself. The obvious benefits of sleeping in a proper bed and eating regular meals were of obvious physical benefit, as much as the non-hostile environment improved his emotional well-being. In addition to these factors, however, Adam began to feel other things. Most obvious to the boy, were his heightened physical senses. Each of the five senses that his creatures represented had magnified in himself. As the increases came gradually, Adam did not really notice all of a sudden, but the steady improvement in his eyesight caused him to find his glasses were of the wrong strength. He did not realise what was happening each time he wished he could see clearly again, when his vision started to blur. As his eyesight improved, however, he realised his hearing and smell were getting better too. He knew what was being cooked for dinner from four floors away, and he could sometimes hear Grace talking to her toys from her room down the hall.

A heightening sense of taste meant that Adam could distinctly pick out all the ingredients in whatever he ate, regardless of how well they had been mixed together. This was not always a good thing, as a sponge cake is meant to taste of sponge cake, not of flour, eggs, butter and sugar. He senses of sight, hearing, smell and taste were not to the extent that his animals had them, and when he tuned in to their respective sensory gifts, he realised that although his own were good, the creatures' senses were still far greater.

Eventually he began to notice the changes to his sense of touch. Each surface, fabric or person he came into contact with began to feel unique. There was an innate difference in the texture of his pine desk compared to the old teak desks in the classrooms. The cotton of his bedclothes contrasted significantly with the artificial feel that some of his clothes had. All in all, the boy became extremely attuned to everything that was going on around him.

It wasn't just sensory enhancements that the creatures evoked in Adam. It seemed, within reason, that the longer his creatures spent 'out in the open' rather than as tattoos on his small body, the more of their physical attributes he developed also. He could not fly, like the falcon, of course, but the strength of the wolf and the agility of the panther did begin to manifest in the boy. The snake's reflexes and the spider's speed further enhanced his physical abilities. As the years ticked by, and the creatures all became fully grown Adam Black became an incredible child.

After a couple of months at St. Christopher's, Adam realised that the falcon, who spent many hours sitting atop the wardrobe staring towards the window, had only ever flown around his small bedroom. He had tried on many occasions to open the window, but it appeared to be stuck fast. Now that he sensed the longing in his avian companion, Adam desperately wished the heavy sash window would slide up, allowing the majestic black bird of prey to stretch its wings and fly off into the night. As soon as the thought finished forming in his mind, Adam watched astonished as a crack appeared in the painted window frame. With a creak, and a splitting sound, the lower sash window slowly raised itself, enough for an adult falcon to go soaring off into the starlit night.

"Whoa!" cried out Adam, to no-one in particular. There was of course, no other person in his room. Although Grace had seen his tattoos, he had not shared the secret of the creatures with anyone. The slumbering forms of panther and wolf raised their heads at his exclamation, saw there was no need for concern, and both returned to their peaceful dozing. The snake, however, slithered up from his warm spot underneath the desk and coiled himself caringly around his master's right arm.

_"You sssseem ssssurprissssed, young masssster."_

_"The window. It opened on itssss own."_

_"Did you not wissssh for it to be sssso?"_

_"I did, but…"_

_"You are a wizzzzard, are you not?"_

_"What?"_

_"You are a wizzzzard, young one. A powerful wizzzzard, in fact, I believe you are marked assss a champion of one of the Godssss."_

_"I don't undersssstand."_

_"Then I will explain, masssster. Firsssst, you are a wizzzzard. You have magic in your blood, and you will learn to usssse and control it, given time. I cannot help you with that, you musssst learn on your own. When you wisssshed for the window to open, the magic power you possssessss made it happen. Yessss, there issss much magic in you, young masssster._

_Ssssecond, there issss a mark upon you. It issss hidden deep insssside, deep insssside your very ssssoul, sssshowing that you are the champion of one of the Godssss. Of which one I cannot ssssay, again, thissss issss a mysssstery for you to solve alone."_

A stunned Adam didn't respond to the snake straightaway, allowing his mind to b swamped by images from the falcon's eyes. Even though it had flown high into the sky, the bird could see everything down in the city as clearly as if it was merely perched on the roof of one of London's old buildings. As the boy was drawn into to watching the bird's first flight, he revelled in the speed of the lights rushing past, after what seemed like only a few minutes, the black falcon, like a shadow in the sky, raced away from the city and out above a forest. Adam didn't know, of course, but this was Epping Forest, to the north and east of London.

Mesmerised by the falcon's flight, Adam forgot about the snake's words for the time being. The flight of the bird excited and exhilarated him, as it dived lower, into the trees and weaved through the canopy, searching for some unwitting prey. Soon, the hunt was over, and as the raptor tore into the fur and flesh of a young rabbit, Adam brought his mind back to his bedroom, not wanting to watch a rabbit ripped apart.

Seeing the snake still wrapped affectionately around his right arm, Adam suddenly remembered the incredibly words it had spoken; of wizards and champions. Sensing the question forming in the boy's mind, the black-skinned reptile lifted its head to its master once more.

_"Yessss, young masssster?"_

_"You said that I am a wizard?"_

_"Yessss."_

_"So I can do magic?"_

_"Yessss."_

_"How?"_

_"How did you open the window?"_

_"I don't know. I jusssst wanted it to open."_

_"Then it ssssoundssss like you have your ansssswer."_

_"What?"_

_"You wisssshed for the window to open, and sssso it did. What else do you wissssh for, young masssster?"_

The five year old boy's eyes grew wide as the snake's words dawned on him. As the young mind comprehended the possibilities in front of him, his naïve imagination reeled with endless thoughts and ideas. Eventually, after experimenting with many things, the exhausted but elated child fell into a deep slumber.

The months and years passed for the boy known as Adam Black. At night, hidden in his bedroom, this exceptional child continued to grow in extraordinary ways. Thanks to the influence of his animal companions, his senses peaked at a point somewhere between two and three times more sensitive than 'normal' wizards. His physical development also continued apace. No longer small for his age, the child was in fact slightly above average by the summer of his seventh year, but his speed, reflexes and strength were several years ahead of that.

His relationship with the five creatures had become one of complete acceptance. They were apart of him, an extension of his own body of which he had complete control, and he could tap into each animal's sensory gift at will; the majestic falcon's eyesight, the sleek panther's hearing, the warm wolf's nose, the guiding snake's taste and the odd spider's sense of touch.

Finally, there was magic. Ever since the first night when the snake told Adam he was a wizard, the boy practiced and experimented and tried out ideas that popped into his head. After approximately two years, he felt as if he could do anything. He could move things around simply by directing his thoughts, make things disappear with a wave of his hand, or change into something else. Recently he had managed to transport himself back to his empty bedroom from other places around the orphanage, although it had made him feel really weird the first few times.

During the boy's eighth year, his third at the orphanage, he discovered how to create things. He had been lying on his bed, trying to feel the magic inside him. _What did it feel like to be a wizard?_ He wondered, not emotionally, but physically. And so, lying in the dark, the seven and a bit year old wizard focussed his thoughts on himself, searching for the source of his magical abilities.

As he lay in the dark, he could hear the steady beat of his heart. He could feel the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing fell into time with the rhythmic snuffly snoring of the wolf, which lay at the end of his bed. After what could have been seconds, minutes or maybe as long as an hour, he found it. There was a faint tingle, the tiniest of sensations, deep within his chest. As the boy focussed upon it, the tingle spread slowly, down into his abdomen and up towards his shoulders. Soon, his entire torso throbbed with pulsing energy, but he forced it to spread down his arms and legs and up his neck into his face. Finally, the pulsing, throbbing, sensation ignited his entire sensory system with a feeling so intense the boy could barely remain still. Fighting the urge to twitch and spasm, the sensational overload dissipated, leaving in its place the strange knowledge that a wondrous fire burned in his veins. However, Adam Black was left with the understanding of what magic was, and how to control it.

The young boy sat up on his bed, and assumed a cross-legged posture. The wolf, in its usual place towards the foot of the bed moved to the floor at its master thought. Adam held his hands out in front of his body, placing them together and forming a cup shape. Concentrating on the sensation of flaming energy he could feel within himself, he mentally forced that feeling, starting at his heart, down his arms and into his hands. Along his fingers he pushed until the raw, innate magic struggled desperately beneath the skin of his palms, fighting to be released into existence. Holding back for a few moments, to savour the moment, the feeling of anticipation was too much for the child and he allowed the crackling, bluish energy to flow from his hands into the waiting hollow they made together.

The swirling, energy coalesced into a ball of writhing blue flames about two inches in diameter. They were not hot, or cold in anyway, merely pleasant and surprisingly soothing to hold. Concentrating further, Adam willed the sphere of energy into a solid shape, and in barely a moment, the comforting softness of the magic was replaced by the cold, heaviness of a flawless, black, glass marble. Satisfied with his night's work Adam Black placed the black sphere on the desk which stood at the side of his bed. He commanded the marble not to roll, despite the slight slope of the old desk, and it remained stationary, held by magic to defy gravity until such time as the enchantment was released. Falling back on to his bed, the boy was asleep in moments, and even failed to stir when the adult male wolf leapt nimbly to lie on the bottom end of the deep blue duvet.

During the days, Adam spent most of his time with his friend Grace, who slept in the room down the hall. She kept to her promise, and continually remained silent about the tattoos which adorned the boy she knew to be called Adam Black. Due to Adam's solitary nature, the pair spent little time with the other children of the orphanage; one friend was enough for the unusual boy. Grace, on the other hand, would have welcomed more friends in her life, but no-one really had any desire to become close to her, in case it also meant coming close to the black-haired boy with the startling green eyes. Resigned, Grace willingly sacrificed the chance to make more friends, so that she could keep her connection with Adam. He had been hopelessly alone when he first arrived, and, being an exceptionally kind child, she could bear the idea of abandoning her relationship with him, leaving him alone once more.

One evening, towards the middle of July of Adam's eighth year, Grace was moving alone through one of the many hallways in the orphanage. It was approaching curfew for the children of her age, and Adam was already back in his room. He always went to bed diligently before lights out, something she didn't really understand, and never knew the reason why. On this occasion however, Grace found she was not alone in the hallway. Approaching her from the other end were three older boys; boys who had a glint of malicious intent in their eyes.

Grace continued up the landing, hoping that they would ignore her if she kept her head down. As it happened, finding this girl alone was exactly what they had hoped for, and as the girl drew alongside, the middle of the three shoved her forcefully into the wall, bringing her to a standstill. As the three crowded in and looked down at the frightened girl, the ringleader spoke harshly.

"Where's that freaky-eyed boy now, you midget. Your boyfriend can't protect you now can he?"

Grace was about to scream out into the musty air of this little-used landing when Adam Black stalked silently up behind the boys and tapped the middle one on the shoulder.

"Looking for me?" he asked, his voice as menacing as a nearly eight year old could manage.

"Yeah. That's right. You're a freak, with those spooky eyes and stupid black clothes. Its no wonder you've got no friends other than that midget."

"Don't call me a freak," whispered the younger boy. He looked directly into his aggressors eyes and fixed him with a stare that would have melted ice. The bullying boy was a few years older than Adam, and easily eight inches taller, but under the gaze of the black haired child he faltered slightly, and was unable to hold his gaze for more than a few moments.

"Well, we'll see how tough you are after I give you a pounding," said the older boy, trying to regain his composure. He took a swing at Adam, intending on punching him full in the face, but his fist never came close to the intended target. Moving with the speed and agility of the panther, Adam's left hand flew up to catch the fist about a foot in front of his face. The attacking boy was shocked, but had no time to react as Adam's right hand, infused with the strength of the wolf, pushed hard into his chest, forcing him back into one of his bullying friends. The two older boys stumbled and fell back over each other, finishing in a tangled heap on the ground. The third of the three bullies caught Adam's eye, but chose to back away, having seen the surprising strength the younger boy possessed.

Adam grabbed Grace by the hand, and started half-dragging, half-leading her down the landing and back to their own part of the orphanage. BY the time the pair reached Grace's bedroom, the girl was back to her usual effervescent self, singing the praises of her quiet friend, and thanking him continually for coming to her rescue. As Adam made to leave her in her room for the night, she quickly gave him a kiss on the cheek, and thanked him one last time for what he had done. It was, of course, an innocent action from one friend to another, but nonetheless it was the first touch of affection that he had ever received. Returning to his own room, Adam Black lay on his bed to remember what that moment had felt like; to be touched in such a gentle and kind way.

A few weeks later, a bright, sunny day dawned. Although he did not know it, today was the eighth birthday of the boy known as Adam Black. It was three years since he had been abandoned at the orphanage by his heartless Uncle, three incredible years in which Adam had, not that he knew it, become an amazing wizard. His unexplained tattoos of a snake, a spider, a falcon, a wolf and a panther, which he could call into existence as creatures to do his bidding, was almost unheard of in the rest of the wizarding world.

Almost.

_Ginevra Molly Weasley woke with excitement on the morning of her fifth birthday. Her parents had promised to buy her a Harry Potter doll this year, and the little bundle of enthusiasm leapt out of bed and charged into her parents' room._

_"Mummy! Daddy! Wake up!"_

_"Happy birthday darling," said the girl's mother, as the child raced around the bed to wake her father._

_"Wake up Daddy, it's my birthday!"_

_"Hello Pumpkin. Happy birthday." The Weasley patriarch lifted his beloved daughter on to the bed with him._

_"Can I open my presents now?" asked the girl, her eyes shining with hope as she turned her head to look at her parents in turn._

_"After breakfast, sweetheart," said her mother. "You know the rules."_

_"Alright. I'll go and get dressed. I'm going to wear my favourite green dress!" With that last statement, the tiny redheaded girl dashed back to her own room, her excitement still at a seriously elevated state._

_The girl tugged off her pyjama top and reached on to the dresser for her hair brush. Always before dressing she stood in front of her big mirror and brushed her long hair to get out all the tangles that develop during the night. Moving to stand in front of the looking glass, the young child had a surprise. On her bare chest, above her heart, was the image of a fox. It was a sideways image, and the animal's head was turned as if looking out away from her body. The girl instinctively lifted a hand to feel the place where the fox appeared, but it felt just like normal, soft skin. Then she noticed another image, this one on her left upper arm, a little way down from the shoulder. It was a magnificent red and gold bird, with its beautiful wings outstretched and its head tilted towards the sky. This was a wizarding house, and Ginevra Molly Weasley was a witch. She knew at once that this was a picture of a phoenix._

_Assuming that the appearance of these two creatures on her chest and arm were attributable to her twin brothers, she felt it was only fair to get payback in the only way a five year old girl knows how._

_"Muuuuuuuuum!" she yelled._

The Weasley family were one of the old 'pureblood' wizarding families, but unlike most of the others, they were not rich, or prejudiced against the rest of society, or constantly harping on about the old ways or traditional wizarding values. They lived in a small wooden house, near a village called Ottery St. Catchpole, in the county of Devon, in South West England. Surrounding the Burrow were miles of countryside, mostly farmland, which sprawled over the gently rolling hills. To the West, however, was a large wood, so large in fact it was known locally as 'The Forest of Wolves'. On one edge of the forest, the village was spread, as apart from a few central shops, the houses were spread over a few miles. Deep within the forest, another small wooden house stood. In contrast to the house of the Weasleys, this one was cold, lonely and haunted. Well, this is what the occupant wanted the locals to believe, and a few well placed spells coupled with the monthly sounds that a werewolf makes, even the magical members of the Ottery St. Catchpole community stayed well away.

The owner of the dwelling in the forest was, of course, Raymond Smith. His old white car was parked out the back of the house, packed ready for a drive to London. It had been three years since he had watched silently as the five year old Harry Potter had been callously abandoned at that orphanage. Three years on, all preparations complete and Ray was ready. Ready to go and get Harry and bring him back here to live. Looking forward to finally being able to ditch his made up muggle name, Remus Lupin sat in his kitchen drinking a final cup of tea.

Over the last few years he had worked on modifying the house so that it was fit for the cohabitation of an adolescent boy and a werewolf. The inside of the house was far grander than the outside led one to believe, with three bedrooms, a lounge, a dining area and a kitchen and a bathroom. The exterior would have suggested the old wooden cottage to have little more than two or three rooms at best. Remus had also constructed an underground cellar, were he could be locked away safely on transformation nights. Also the cellar contained a space for brewing potions, specifically the Wolfsbane potion. It had taken him the best part of eighteen months to perfect this, but he had been unwilling to have Harry come and stay until this precaution could be managed.

The final task had been to help his best friend, Sirius Black, escape from the wizarding prison, Azkaban. After almost eighteen months of planning, they had finally achieved it, and now Sirius was hiding out in his late parents' old home in London. Remus was going to go first to Grimmauld Place to collect him, and then they were both going to go to the orphanage and get Harry. With one last thought about what he had achieved, and what was about to come, Remus Lupin set his empty teacup in the sink, and headed out the back to his trusty car.

Thanks to a few slightly illegal magical enhancements, it was barely an hour later that Remus Lupin had travelled the near two hundred miles to London, had successfully collected Sirius Black, and was now parked outside the regal looking buildings that housed St. Christopher's Orphanage. Inside this building was Harry Potter, the son of their best friends, Lily and James. The Boy-Who-Lived. The defeater of the Dark Lord.

So, at nine o'clock exactly, two smartly dressed men knocked on the door with the peeling black paint, filled with apprehension mixed with excitement. They were finally going to get to see him again, the boy they had held as a baby, whom they had sworn to protect and love should the worst happen to his parents. This day was to be the first day of a new chapter, in all of their lives.

Adam Black was waiting patiently for his first class of the day to begin. Grace was sat beside him, chattering away a usual, and all around them the other children were ignoring the odd pair, or giving them a wide berth. The door to the makeshift classroom opened, and the children expected their usual teacher to stride into the room, but on this occasion it was Mrs. Rutherford, who was looking for Adam.

"Adam," she said quietly as she made her way across the back of the classroom to where he was sat. "Will you come with me please? There are two gentlemen here to see you."

Unsure what this could mean, Adam followed the principal dutifully, his mind racing as to who these men could be. It could be something to do with his relatives, the Dursleys, but they his Uncle had clearly suggested he wanted no more contact with his nephew. A few corridors later, Harry Potter cam face to face with the two men, who Mrs. Rutherford introduced as Mr. Smith and Mr. Black. The boy hadn't heard, however, he was too busy staring at the man he recognised. The brown-eyed man who used to sit in the white car was here. The man he had always felt was keeping a watch over him had come.

"Adam," said Mrs. Rutherford. "Adam?"

Adam didn't reply but came out of his thoughts to look at her.

"These men would like you to go and live with them. They were friends of your parents."

Typically when Mrs. Rutherford spoke, Adam didn't reply, and this was no exception. Instead he turned back to the two men, looking at the brown-eyed man first. Staring into the man's eyes, Adam willed his magic to show him the truth; to reveal the emotions of these two men. As his own green eyes bore deep into the older man's very soul, Adam could see honesty, a longing to care for the boy, integrity and a desperate fear that he would not go with them.

Turning to the black-haired man, Adam looked equally hard into his eyes. This man also wanted to look after the boy, and was truly aggrieved at not having been able up to now. He also showed signs of excitement and a new sense of freedom.

Under the boy's piercing gaze, the two men both knew they were being tested. There was a power lying behind those eyes; eyes as green as emeralds that were almost hypnotic. Remus let out a sigh of relief as the boy's stare transferred over to Sirius. Despite the intensity of the boy's examination, Remus felt sure he had passed it; he only wanted to care for Harry, after all. However, the fact that as an eight year old, he already wielded the skill of legilimency was astonishing. Sirius and he were going to have to have a long talk about this later.

When Adam had finished his scrutiny of the two wizards, he turned back to Mrs. Rutherford, and for the first time in many months, spoke to her of his own volition.

"Mrs. Rutherford. The eyes never lie. I should very much like to go and live with these men."

"Are you sure, Adam?" the again lady enquired. "That was a very a short time in which to make a decision."

"I am sure. They have only good intentions, I am certain of it."

"Very well. Go to your room and gather your things together. I will go and find a bag you can use."

Adam nodded briefly at her, flashed a grin and the two men, and disappeared out of the office door. Once out of sight of the three adults, he willed himself back to his room, reappearing instantly beside his bed. Barely five minutes later, Adam had all of his belongings neatly stacked on his bed; clothes, shoes, toothbrush, and all the items that appeared unexplainably, but had actually been conjured out of nothing by the child prodigy. Mrs. Rutherford soon arrived with a flimsy hold-all that Adam quickly began stuffing with his clothes, so quickly that he didn't spot Grace hovering in the doorway.

Mrs. Rutherford instructed Adam to return to the office when he was ready, before leaving herself to complete some paperwork. As Adam looked up to see her go, he spotted Grace. Her usually happy face was downcast, and a few tears had fallen from her eyes.

"Are you really leaving, Adam?"

"Yes."

"I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too."

Grace ran into the room and gave her friend a fierce hug. Adam had no choice but to receive it and he patted her awkwardly on the back.

"Do you want me to ask if you can come too?"

Grace pulled away from Adam, and held him at arms length, looking at him appraisingly.

"No, I don't think so," she said after a moment's thought. "This is your new family, not mine. They came for you, not me."

"I'll never forget you, Grace," whispered Adam, quietly. "You were my first ever friend."

"Thank you, Adam. Go on then. I'll pray for you."

Adam Black took one last look around his bedroom of the last three years. He'd done so much in here – learnt how to do so many things. He'd grown strong and fast, and learned how to do magic. This place would always be special, as would the pretty blonde-haired girl who was stood there with him, and saying goodbye. The boy known as Adam Black walked out of the small room, down stairs and across landings until he reached the front door of St. Christopher's Orphanage.

_'Yes,'_ thought Harry Potter. _'I was a lost soul. But I'm not anymore.'_

Getting into the Remus' white car, Sirius sat in the back with Harry.

"First of all, Harry, let me introduce us properly. I am Sirius. Sirius Black. I'm your Godfather."

"And I, Harry," called Remus from the front seat, "am Remus Lupin, one of your father's best friends, along with Sirius here."

"Okay," said Harry. "But why are you calling me Harry? My name is Adam."

"Harry is your real name," explained Sirius. "Mrs. Rutherford told us that when you arrived at St. Christopher's, she had to give you a name, and she chose Adam Black."

"So Harry is my real name?"

"Yes. Harry Potter. And that's not all, Harry. You're a wizard, and a damned good one I'll bet."

"Yes. I know."


	3. In which Harry met Ginny

Chapter 3: In which Harry met Ginny

"You know?" said Sirius, the surprise evident in his voice. "How? Who told you?"

"Before I answer that, will both of you promise to tell me the truth? About everything?"

"Of course," replied Sirius, without any hesitation.

"Yes," called Remus from the front of the car. "But will you do the same for us?"

"I will," answered Harry, quietly.

"Well then," said Sirius. "How did you find out that you are a wizard? I'd bet a hundred galleons that the Dursleys didn't tell you."

At the mention of the word Dursleys, Harry's previously happy face fell into a scowl, which Sirius couldn't fail to notice.

"What is it Harry? Why the frown?" asked Sirius, concerned that he had upset his godson.

"Err, Padfoot ol' boy," Remus called from the driver's seat. "I don't think Harry's relatives treated him so well. Best not talk about them for now."

"Alright Moony," Sirius responded, although his gaze hadn't moved from the boy beside him.

"Harry?"

"My snake told me."

"Your what?"

"My snake." Harry held out his right arm, and much to Sirius Black's astonishment and alarm, a black snake was coiled around it.

"Holy mother of Merlin!" the older man cried. "Is it safe?"

"Of course," Harry replied, as he stroked the serpent's head. The snake turned to look at the black-haired man and its tongue flicked in and out appraisingly. Tuning into the snake's sense of taste, Harry knew that Sirius had suddenly become quite nervous, if his increased sweating was any indication.

_"Thissss wizzzzard issss unssssure of me."_

_"He'll get ussssed to you. Jusssst imagine when he sssseesss the panther!"_

_"Yessss. That will be mosssst interessssting."_

_"Ssssleep now."_

_"Yessss, young masssster."_

Throughout the short exchange, Sirius' alarm at seeing a snake appear on the young boy's wrist changed to complete shock at hearing the two hissing at each other. "You're a…a…parselmouth?"

"Padfoot? What's going on back there? I heard a load of hissing."

"Nothing exciting, Moons. Just that Harry has a pet snake, to whom he chats in parseltongue."

"WHAT?" Remus' surprise at his friend's comment resulted in a violent swerve, as his attention to the road waned momentarily.

Harry held the snake up so Remus could see it in the rear-view mirror. "Geez, Harry, you're going to be a big bundle of surprises, aren't you."

"I guess," said the boy.

Sirius spent the remainder of the journey to Devon telling Harry about his parents, what had happened to them and how. He explained how the one of their best friends had betrayed them to Voldemort, and how the Dark Lord had come to the Potter's home in Godric's Hollow, killing James and Lily, and trying to kill baby Harry too. Sirius' tale lasted the entire journey, and several hours afterwards as well. By the evening of Harry's eighth birthday, he knew about the wizarding world, about Voldemort, his own notoriety and about the prophecy.

The prophecy that had precipitated Voldemort's attack on the Potters had been made by a seer whose divination skills were widely recognised as debatable. Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts as well as plenty of other things, believed in it, however, and that had been a good enough endorsement for the Potters to take it seriously. Unbeknownst to Dumbledore, James Potter had confided in his best friend, Sirius Black, and Sirius wasn't about to keep the truth hidden from the boy.

In essence, the prophecy told that the Dark Lord would mark a child as his equal, and in the end, the child and he would fight to the death, but the child would have a hidden power that the Dark Lord didn't know about. Fortunately for Harry, the wizard known as Lord Voldemort was currently a disembodied spirit, drifting through forests in Eastern Europe. Much of the world believed Voldemort to be dead, but now Harry knew of his enemy, he could sense, in the back of his mind that the Dark Lord was still out there, somewhere, biding his time, planning his return.

Thanks to a large slice of magical embellishment, Remus' white Ford Sierra managed the four hour drive from St. Christopher's to Devon in a little over two, resulting in the party of three arriving just in time four lunch. As Sirius continued telling his stories of the wizarding world, Remus disappeared into the kitchen of the home they would all now share and returned forthwith laden with sandwiches and drinks. After the absorbing tale of his own past was finished, Harry started to take in his surroundings.

Nestled in between the twin villages of Ottery St Catchpole and Ottery St Mary was a dense forest, largely believed by the muggle inhabitants of the surrounding homes to be haunted. The epicentre of any spectral activity was believed to be an apparently derelict wooden cabin that was hidden away in the centre of the wood. The howling and wailing that emanated from the dwelling during nights of the full moon did plenty to maintain its reputation, exactly as the owner occupier hoped it would. Remus Lupin, being a werewolf, didn't really want oblivious muggles wandering around his home, especially on _those_ nights. Over the last few years, Remus had been working exceptionally hard to protect the cabin with numerous wards, muggle-repelling charms, glamour wards and the like. The cabin was unplottable, and now under a Fidelius charm; its location was known only by Remus himself, Sirius, and now Harry.

Inside, the wooden structure bore little resemblance to the outside, from where it looked big enough to have maybe two or three rooms at most, which amazed little Harry. Thanks to some creative architecture of the special wizarding kind, the cabin actually boasted three bedrooms, a lounge diner, a kitchen, library and a bathroom. In the cellar, which Remus had had excavated, he had placed a training room and what looked to Harry like a prison cell. When Harry pointed this out during the trio's tour around the house, Remus took the moment to explain that he was Werewolf, and all that it entailed. Soaking up all the information his two adult guardians could impart on the subject, Harry immediately insisted that they should learn to brew the Wolfsbane potion for themselves.

Finally, it became time for Harry to tell Remus and Sirius about himself, about the Dursleys, the tattoos, the five creatures, about magic and what he had already learned to do with it. Starting at the beginning, Harry described his life at the heavy hands of his relatives back in Privet Drive. It had been a long time since he had thought of this, let alone talked about it. He had told his friend Grace a little of his 'family', and had found it helped to share things. Consequently, he made good on his promise, and told the two wizards everything.

To say they were shocked to hear of the treatment of a small child was an understatement, but it was soon glossed over when Harry got round to telling of his five tattoos, that suddenly appeared during the night before his fifth birthday. As he pulled up the right sleeve of his black top, to reveal the snake image on his wrist, Remus' reaction was stunned amazement. Sirius' in contrast was a more animated "Awesome!"

It was Remus who noticed the similarity between the snake tattoo on Harry's wrist and actual serpent that was coiled around it in the car. Almost immediately had this thought finished forming in his mind, then another came – where was that snake now?

"Harry? What happened to the snake you had earlier?"

"It's right here," the young boy replied, holding up his right arm.

"Sorry kiddo," interjected Sirius. "You're going to have to explain that a bit more clearly for us old dogs to understand."

Harry didn't reply to his Godfather, but smiled a mischievous smile and fired off a twinkle in one of his green eyes. With a silent thought from Harry, the snake had formed out of the tattoo onto his wrist, and began looking around, flicking its tongue towards the two wizards.

"Awesome!" cried Sirius, for a second time.

"Wow, Harry, that's incredible," began Remus. "I've never heard of this before. I think it would be best if this was kept between us. I mean, I'll do some reading and see what I can find. Oh my."

"Well Harry, it seems you've stunned poor Moony into research mode. Every time something comes up he's never seen or heard about before, he hits the books."

"Should I not show you the other four then?"

"What?" asked Sirius.

"E…E…Excuse me?" stammered Remus.

Slowly, Harry pulled his top over his head, revealing the falcon on his left arm, the spider on his neck, the wolf on his chest and the magnificent panther on his back. Letting the enormity of the tattoos sink in, Harry waited a few moments before he summoned out the four remaining creatures. In barely a second, a falcon flew out of the open cabin window and out into the forest. The panther and wolf were both sniffing their way around the two older wizards, looking for any signs of a threat, and the spider stepped lightly down Harry's arm and came to rest in his left hand.

It was a several minutes before either of the two ex-marauders managed to utter anything coherent, when Sirius finally managed to get out a third "Awesome!" Eventually, Remus also found his voice.

"Well, young Harry. When you said you were going to tell us about yourself, I was not expecting that."

Harry shrugged and absentmindedly played with the spider for a few moments before sending it back to the web on his neck. As Harry pulled his top back on, Sirius asked him a question, his voice mischievous.

"So, kiddo. What else can you do?"

Over the following days, Harry showed his two new guardians what he could do already with his control of magic. The two wizards were continually astounded when this eight year old performed feat after feat of wandless, silent magic. It couldn't even be described as spell casting, because there were no spells, or wand movements. There was just intent, plain and simple. Remus tried learning how to control his magic like Harry could, but found that he was too long in the tooth to change. Spell casting with a wand was just too instinctive for the werewolf. Sirius, sensing hard work, declined to even try, happy in the knowledge that his Godson was awesome.

In the following weeks, months and years, the three wizards settled into a comfortable routine of learning and playing. Harry decided quite quickly that he would prefer to stay as Adam Black. Partly because he had gotten used to it, but also because it gave him a sense of kinship with his Godfather.

With a few well placed glamour charms, Sirius and Harry were able to visit Gringotts Bank in Diagon Alley. The goblins knew who they really were of course, but cared very little. The fact that two heirs of two rich and important families were in their halls was good enough for the Goblins. Sirius gave 'Adam Black' access to the Black family vault; in case he was unable to attend himself, and gave access to Remus to withdraw Galleons, even though he could not physically enter the vault itself. Finances taken care of, Sirius and Adam took the opportunity to look at the Potters' will, which had been left unopened to this very day, due to none of the named beneficiaries being unable to attend.

Harry, was the only named beneficiary, of course, and as he had been hidden away by Dumbledore, his parents' will remained locked away in the files of the Goblins. Apart from the Potter family money, which Harry would get control of when he became seventeen and a trust vault he could access from age eleven, there was little detail in the document. Perhaps the only interesting point was a stipulation that Harry should not be sent to live with the Dursleys, under any circumstances.

Sirius and Remus spent most of their time teaching Adam, as they called him now anything and everything they could think of. Adam was amazed at the range of things magic could be used for; his childish imagination had not stretched to 'duelling' or attacking and defending. So, Adam soaked everything up like a sponge. When he was not in the basement training area with one of the adults, he would be tucked away somewhere reading one of the many books that Remus kept him endlessly supplied with.

The only other activity that Adam engaged in, apart from basic physical needs like eating and sleeping and washing, was walking in the forest with his wolf and panther at his side. Perhaps due to his intimacy with his own animals, Adam seemed to have a mysterious rapport with the creatures of the woodland. Despite the presence of the lupine and feline, rabbits, birds and all creatures seemed comfortable when he was near, and many even approached him, sensing somehow that he was a child of nature. In time, Adam Black came to spend a third of his waking hours in the forest; it seemed like such a natural environment for the boy. He was always careful to remain hidden from anyone else who walked through the trees. A few of the local villagers took a path through the woods, and occasionally people rambled through in recreation. There was only one person to which he had ever shown himself, a girl similar to his own age, with dirty blonde hair. She had been trying to help a baby bird that had fallen from its nest, and with Adam's help, they had caught it and she had taken it home rear it by hand.

As the years rumbled on, Adam Black continued to grow in strength and sensory ability. In agreement with his guardians, he decided that he did not want to go to Hogwarts when he became eleven, not that a delivery owl was able to find the house anyway, with the numerous layers of protection and privacy that had been placed upon it. Eventually Remus agreed that Adam was best staying out of the public's eye. Even remaining in his guise as Adam Black, relation of the Black family he would be the centre of attention due to his incredible abilities. Maybe sometime in the future he would go, but at age eleven, he would not. There were too many concerns over a certain headmaster, and his motives, that eleven year old Adam was not ready for.

The calmness with which this decision was made by three happy and contented wizards was certainly not shared by two others, many hundreds of miles away in a castle in Scotland.

"It's been two weeks Albus," said Minerva McGonagall. "Every other reply was received within two days. Surely we should do something."

"Yes, Minerva, I do believe the time has come to take action. I will go myself to Harry's home, and see if I can discover the answers that we seek."

"Very well, Albus. I'll be in my office, starting on timetables."

As his deputy headmistress strode out of the circular office, the ancient wizard turned to his phoenix familiar. "I'll be back shortly, my friend, hopefully with good news." The phoenix trilled a response of encouragement, as Albus Dumbledore flooed away.

Professor McGonagall was deep in concentration, puzzling over timetabling and other such administrative tasks when the headmaster appeared in her office doorway. At once she noticed his demeanour; it was lacking its usual joviality, and the twinkle in his blue eyes was missing.

"What is it, Albus? Is the boy alright?"

Feeling every one of his hundred and fifty something years, Albus Dumbledore moved into the Gryffindor Head of House's office and sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"It would appear, Minerva, that I made a grave mistake, leaving Harry in the care of his family."

"Whatever do you mean, Albus? Where is the boy? Is he coming?"

"Harry's Aunt and Uncle despised him, and treated him extremely badly. When I arrived, they were so irate at having 'one of those unnatural freaks' in their house that their memories of Harry raced through their minds so viciously, I barely needed to use Legilimency at all to know what they were thinking. Although I could not discern what transpired, something happened on Harry's fifth birthday, causing Vernon Dursley to take his nephew to London and abandon him at an orphanage. The Dursleys haven't seen nor heard of him in six years."

"What about Arabella Figg? Hadn't you asked her to keep an eye on the Potter boy?"

"Another of my mistakes, it would appear, in that I assumed no news was good news. Sadly Arabella succumbed to an illness which left her blind and with dementia. She had no family, and as such no-one looked after her in her declining years. She passed away several years ago, Minerva, and I believe it is my fault."

"What are we going to do, Albus? We must find him?"

"Yes of course Minerva, we must. I have noted down the approximate location of the orphanage. Would you please see what you can find? I rather feel the need to go and rest, and contemplate the hideous errors of judgement I have made."

Sensing his companion's need for some spiritual healing, Fawkes appeared in Professor McGonagall's office and landed on the elderly old headmaster's shoulder. Trilling a calming greeting to his master, the flaming bird grabbed hold of Dumbledore's robes with his talons, and in a flash of flames they were gone, leaving a shell-shocked Minerva McGonagall alone in her office once more.

Several days passed before the stern Transfiguration teacher returned to the round office of her friend. His usual calm demeanour had returned and his expressions were as characterful as normal, although the famous twinkle had yet to reappear in his eyes. Minerva noticed the silvery white glow coming from the old stone basin in the cupboard behind the headmaster's desk. There could be no doubt which memories he had placed in his pensieve.

"I hope you bring good news, Minerva. I fear we could both use a morale boost."

"I'm afraid not, Albus," responded McGonagall. "I managed to trace the orphanage. There was only ever one in that area of London."

"Was?"

"Yes. St. Christopher's Orphanage closed a little over a year ago."

"Did you find out why? What happened to the children, or their records?"

"I found out a little from newspaper archives in the local muggle library. There was an accident; a bad one. One that sounds a lot like accidental magic on a very grand scale."

"What happened?"

"There was an explosion, which in turn caused the building to catch fire. All the records in the office were destroyed, and…" The usual unflappable teacher faltered for a moment. "And five children were killed."

Neither of the two aging educators noticed the strange beetle land on the open window ledge, part way through their conversation. Similarly, neither saw when it nearly fell off the ledge in shock, before recovering enough to fly away again.

The unusual family of three wizards enjoyed a quiet eleventh birthday for their youngest member. The hazy sunshine that filtered through the trees of the forest kept them warm throughout August, and all too soon 1st September came round. Across the country, several hundred magical school children were preparing to start a new year of wizarding education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the Lupin, Black and Black household, emotions were running high for an entirely different reason. The Daily Prophet had arrived.

Boy-Who-Lived feared dead

By Rita Skeeter

Following his sensational defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the age of fifteen months, it seems that the infant Harry Potter ended up sequestered in a Muggle orphanage. Earlier in the summer, this intrepid reporter discovered that the orphanage in question was destroyed in an explosion, killing many of the occupants…

"So, Adam," said Sirius cheerfully, after the shock had worn down a little. "Apparently you're dead."

"This will make going out in public simpler, I suppose…" Remus mumbled to himself.

"We need to find out about Grace," stated Harry, ignoring them both.

Later that day, Remus headed to London to see if he could find out anything about Harry's friend Grace, while Sirius went down into the basement to tend to the current batch of Wolfsbane potion that was simmering away. Harry made his regular trip into the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, to get supplies for their trio's dinner, and for breakfast and lunch the next day. Several days later, Remus reported back that he had been unable to find any information regarding Harry's first ever friend.

Generally, Harry allowed all of his creatures to be 'out' as much as possible, even if that meant leaving them somewhere as he went somewhere else. Any of them could be summoned back to him with a thought, and they would reappear as tattoos on his body, no matter how far away they had been, from where they could re-emerge at Harry's side in an instant. As usual for the walk through the trees into the village, and indeed all of his forays into the forest, the wolf trotted amiably at his master's side. This had turned a few heads in the village, but after three years, most of the villagers had grown accustomed to seeing the strange black haired boy, who was always dressed head to toe in black clothes, with a large black dog at his side. Occasionally on his trips into the village, Harry saw members of a family of red-headed people; mostly boys with their mother, although there was one girl too he noted. This family, Harry could tell, were a magical family, one of a couple in the region, so Remus had told him at some point.

The years continued to pass and the three wizards became closer as their policy of only ever telling the whole truth to each other helped to forge a bond of absolute trust. Remus and Sirius explained to Harry, although they still called him Adam, why Remus had not been able to stop Sirius being sent to Azkaban, despite knowing the truth about Peter being the secret-keeper. One wintry evening, at Harry's prompting, Remus explained to Harry all about those terrible days, when Voldemort's act of terrorism were indiscriminate, nobody knew who to trust, and the lawmen like Bartemius Crouch were under terrible pressure to 'get results'. Had Remus come forward with the information that Peter was secret keeper instead of Sirius, Remus felt certain that he would have been carted off to Azkaban as well, for being in league with Sirius Black the crazed mass-murderer, and trying to get him freed with some half-baked nonsense that could not be disputed by Peter Pettigrew, as he had been brutally slain as well. No, with Dumbledore firmly of the belief that Sirius was the betrayer, there was nothing to be gained by Remus coming forward with the truth.

This explanation led to explanation of how the two marauders had managed to spring Sirius from Azkaban, the most horrendous place in wizarding Britain, and believed to be impossible to escape from.

After Remus had watched in horror as Vernon Dursley dropped a terrified five year old Harry at the orphanage in London, he had vowed to do whatever was necessary to rescue Harry and look after him. He already owned the cottage in the woods in Devon, but it was nowhere near safe enough, or a suitable place to bring up a child. Remus quickly realised that he needed help, and there was only one person he could trust. Sirius.

With some help from Dumbledore, Remus was granted permission to go and visit Sirius in Azkaban, where the two marauders were able to make a plan. Thankfully, Sirius had managed to minimise the effects of the dreaded Dementors by spending much of his time as Padfoot, his black dog animagus form. After Moony's visit, Sirius' resolve was strengthened further. He clung to two thoughts; that he had been wrongly imprisoned and that Harry was in need of his help. Neither thought was a happy one, and this is why the Dementors left him alone to a large extent. With no happy memories to feed on, Sirius was of no interest to the creatures of death. After almost three years of eating just enough to stay alive, Padfoot was thin enough to squeeze through the bars of his cage, out past the patrolling Dementors and swim across the sea to the mainland, and freedom. As pre-arranged Remus was on hand to take Sirius to London, and stash him away inside the now empty, Black family home, number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Thanks to the legendary discretion of the Gringotts Goblins, Sirius was able to finance the development and improved warding of Remus' little cottage in the woods. His small fortune also meant that they could afford to live without either of them having to work, and that they were now ready to go and find Harry.

Over the next few years, Harry, perpetually disguised as Adam Black, continued to read, practice magic, roam the forest and live contentedly with his two older guardians. On his fourteenth birthday, Remus took Harry into the Ministry of Magic with the purpose of hearing the prophecy that had been made about him. Harry had been having strange dreams which he described to Remus and Sirius, and surprisingly it had been Sirius who recognised the Hall of Prophecy from Harry's description. It was perfectly allowed for someone mentioned in a prophecy to go and visit it, within the Department of Ministries, so long as an appointment was made in advance. Visiting a prophecy was considered to be an extremely private matter, similar to opening a safety deposit box in a posh Swiss bank in the Muggle world. Despite making an appointment under the name Adam Black, Harry was able to discretely lift down the dusty glass sphere that was indicated his real initials.

Following the instructions of the Unspeakable who had accompanied Harry and Remus, but who was now waiting at the entrance to the great chamber, Harry invoked the smoky image of Sybil Trelawney, which spoke the damning words that condemned Harry to life as an orphan. Although Harry knew of the prophecy, he was not prepared for the harsh reality that struck him like a hammer blow – it was his destiny to kill or be killed by the despicable Dark Lord, an evil being whom Harry knew in his gut would be back some day, looking for vengeance against the boy who defied him.

Perhaps it was not a bad thing that the fragile glass ball slipped from the stunned boy's fingers and smashed on the cold stone floor. The sudden noise of breaking glass cut through the silence of the massive hall and startled Harry out of the stupor into which he had slipped. Remus, who had remained quiet throughout the entire experience, took his young charge by the arm.

"Come Harry. We should get out of here."

Finding solace in the cool and quiet of the woodland around the cottage, Harry spent many of the following days roaming amongst the trees, his wolf and panther faithfully trotting at his side, ready to disappear at a moment's notice. On one of these days he came across the girl with dirty blonde hair, who was sitting in a small clearing. The sun was shining down upon her through a gap in the leafy canopy, and she was inexplicably waving her arms at the sunbeams, as if trying to catch them.

Curiosity drew Harry towards the girl, and he soon engaged her in conversation. She was named Luna, he learned, and although she went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it was the summer holiday, so she was back living with her father in Ottery St. Mary, the village on the other side of the small forest to Ottery St. Catchpole. The two young teens chatted amiably for several hours; Luna's carefree attitude to life washing soothingly over Harry's troubled mind leaving him refreshed and his spirit uplifted. There was no use worrying about Voldemort yet, was there? The pair came across each other a couple more times during that summer, but soon Luna returned to Hogwarts, Summer turned to Autumn and time rumbled ever onward.

During the summer of Harry's fifteenth birthday, he came into contact with a few more of Hogwart's finest. One afternoon, when Harry was making a trip to the village shop, he saw four of the redheads on the other side of the lane, a short distance ahead. The girl was there, Harry noticed. She was fairly short and slender, with beautiful long deep red hair flowing like a curtain of silk down her back. She was wearing a white summer dress, which reached to just above her knees. Accompanying her were the youngest boy, who also looked to be about Harry's age, and the twin boys who were a little older. As they walked up the lane towards the shop, Harry noticed the boys look back at him a few times, leaving Harry at a heightened level of alert.

As the girl disappeared into the shop, the three red haired boys waited outside, watching Harry as he approached. As the black-haired teen and his wolf stepped off the road onto the shop's forecourt the youngest red-head stepped towards him menacingly.

"Oi! Wolf-Boy. I want a word with you."

Harry stopped to face the slightly taller boy, but was not overly concerned. The wolf at his side growled quietly, but his aggressor stood his ground as he was buoyed by the presence of his twin brothers behind him. Harry did not respond, but stared up into the red-head's eyes.

"I…err..." the boy stumbled under the gaze of the strange boy with the big black dog. "We…err…saw you looking at our sister…"

Harry continued his silent, impassive response.

"…And we don't approve. In fact, we're going to teach you some respect." The red-head had started to regain his confidence, so much so he had barely finished his sentence when he lashed out with a poorly aimed punch at Harry's head. Harry of course, easily caught the flying fist with his left hand, thanks to his animalistic reflexes. In an instant, the attacking youth was spun about and shoved forcefully back towards the wall of the shop, which he struck fully face-on, causing his nose to break. Harry looked sternly towards the twins, almost willing them to try something, but they saw sense at went instead to help their stricken brother who now had blood pouring down his face and chin. Still without a word, Harry shook his head at the three other boys and disappeared into the shop, barely registering the pretty red-headed girl who was just paying for her shopping and came out a moment later.

That confrontation with the youngest Weasley boy occurred towards the beginning of July. It was a few weeks later when Harry's path crossed the red-headed and hot-headed family again.

The youngest member of the Weasley family, Ginevra Molly Weasley had spent the day visiting her friend Luna Lovegood, who lived in the village on the other side of the haunted forest. She could have taken the floo home to the Burrow, but instead decided to enjoy the cool summer evening and walk back along the forest trail. The main path through the forest took the walker from St. Mary to St. Catchpole, almost in a straight line through the woodland, but with a small kink in the deepest part of the wood to avoid a strange, wooden cottage. With the last of the summer sunlight fading rapidly, it was darker under the trees than thirteen year old Ginny expected, and she found herself hurrying past the old wooden house as her heart beat quickly in her chest.

The path was difficult to follow as the last remnants of sunlight disappeared, but the young witch dare not use her wand to light her way, due to the restriction on underage sorcery. With her senses alert, Ginny was suddenly aware of other things in the wood. Birds, of course. Animals as well most likely. People? Suddenly, a noise behind Ginny made her spin round in alarm, but there was nothing to see except shadows and dark shapes. She turned back to run on down the thoroughfare, but having strayed slightly from the beaten track, Ginny caught her left foot in some twisted roots or vines, and fell sharply to the ground, her ankle twisting painfully and breaking with a snap. The young teen could not help but cry out in anguish, causing all the birds around her to fly up out of their roosts in surprise. Moments later, the trees were silent once more, and Ginny sobbed in pain and frustration as her stricken foot refused to come loose of its bindings.

Without warning, the hair on the back of Ginny's neck began to stand on end and she sensed something approach. Silently, a dark shape approached from the trees to her left. It was low to the ground, not a person, perhaps a dog.

As the great black dog padded noiselessly across the woodland floor, poor Ginny Weasley became petrified with fear. The adrenalin masked the pain from her injured ankle as the reality of staring a large, unfamiliar animal in the face took precedence in her mind. With her gaze fixed on the beast that stood barely inches from her left side, she did not notice the second being that approached equally silently from her other side, until the dog shifted its gaze to its approaching master. Ginny Weasley shrieked as she saw the person loom above her out of the darkness, until her involuntary jump caused her ankle to jar, and pain to shoot up her leg.

Looking the girl up and down, the person slowly drew a hunting knife from the folds of his black coat; its highly polished blade catching the reflection of the canine's bright green eyes. Summoning the last vestiges of her Gryffindor spirit, Ginny Weasley managed to whisper out a defiant warning.

"Don't you touch me….I'm a w….I've got a wan…"

As she spoke her hands felt the pockets of her jeans for her wand. Her voice trailed off as she realised the horrific truth; her wand was missing.

"Looking for this?" The person's voice was softer, and younger than she had expected. As he spoke, he held up Ginny's wand, which she could barely make out in the worsening darkness.

"Give me that," Ginny ground out through gritted teeth.

"Actually, I think not. If you are as impetuous as your brother is, you'll probably curse me before I can help to sort out your foot."

"My brother? How do you…" Suddenly enlightenment struck the fallen girl. "You're the guy that attacked Ron." Harry was about to respond, when Ginny suddenly added more questions. "You knew this was a wand didn't you? And you know about curses. Are you a wizard? Did you say you were going to help me?"

As she paused for breath, Harry jumped in to the conversation.

"Yes, I am going to help you. Yes, I knew it was a wand and yes, I am a wizard. As for your brother…It sounds to me like you didn't get the full story." Harry moved and knelt down by Ginny's feet. As he looked at the twisting roots that had snared the girl's ankle, she carried on asking questions.

"So what did happen then, if you didn't attack him? And who are you anyway? And how are you going to…" She trailed off as Harry lifted the knife once more, and held her breath. The blade suddenly sliced down through the air and swept neatly through the roots that held Ginny's broken ankle in place.

"Ahhhhhhh!" she cried as the broken bones suddenly became free to move. Harry instantly placed his hands on the damaged joint, and a white glow began to emanate from them, engulfing Ginny's foot and ankle. After a moment, the pain began to subside, and seeing the relief on his patient's face, Harry proceeded to answer her last battery of questions, all the while keeping up the healing glow.

"Your brother took affront at my glancing in your direction as you walked along the lane ahead of me, and decided to defend your honour. Unfortunately for him, my instinctive defensive action led him to be shoved into the shop wall, causing some damage to his face, I believe. As far as I'm aware, your brothers generally refer to me as Wolf-boy. However, I prefer the name Shadow. Much more mysterious, don't you think." In fact, this was the marauder name he had been given by Remus and Sirius, thanks to his penchant for all things black, along with his uncanny ability for hiding unseen in the shadows of the woods. "And, in answer to your third question, I'm using the knife to cut your foot free, although I think you already figured that out."

"My brother really is an…" began Ginny, but Harry cut her off mid-flow.

"Shhh. I need to concentrate."

As Harry continued to tend to the girl's broken ankle, he took the opportunity to have a good look at her. Even in the darkness of the woodland night, his enhanced vision allowed him to see fairly well. The girl was smaller than he was, by a fair margin, and clearly younger too, but she was extremely pretty, with her long red hair and pale skin. She lay back on the soft forest floor with her eyes closed, revelling in the relief that this strange boy's lowing hands were bringing to her infured ankle. Opening her eyes once more, she found the boy's big black dog sniffing relentlessly at her chest.

"Um, Shadow?"

"What?"

"I know my brothers call you 'Wolf-boy', but this isn't really a wolf, is it? And why is it sniffing me quite so vehemently?"

"Yes, it is a wolf, and he can smell your fox."

"What did you?…how did?…huh?" Ginny was staggered by the boy's words and was unable to form the questions that were racing through her mind. How could he know about the tattoo that still remained in place on her chest? Did it really have a smell? When it had been established that the twins really hadn't been involved in the appearance of the fox and phoenix images on five year old Ginny's chest and arm, her parents had taken her to St. Mungo's, who had been baffled by the images, and completely unable to remove them. No-one outside the Weasley family had ever been told of their existence.

"How can it smell a tattoo?" Ginny asked incredulously.

"Tattoos."

"What?"

"Tattoos. There's a firebird on your arm too, isn't there?"

"How did you…?" Again the girl's question trailed away, as she looked at the Shadowy boy in front of her. Suddenly, Harry stood.

"I've done all I can for your ankle. You'd best stay off it for a few days, for it will be stiff and sore, but I've mended the bones. I'll carry you back to your house."

"OK!" Ginny's mind was still reeling from this person's casual mention of her long kept secret to object to this complete stranger offering to carry her the two miles back to the Burrow. She barely noticed as he easily lifted her up into his arms, and started off through the forest. Harry refused to be drawn into answering questions about himself, or how he knew about the fox and the phoenix, but he spoke enough to find out the way to the Burrow and reveal that he knew the forest well enough to wander around in the dark.

Half way through the journey, which took around an hour, Ginny fell asleep in Harry's arms, as the adrenalin from the accident drained from her body, leaving her exhausted. Harry was pleased to walk on in silence, effortlessly carrying the sweet girl back to her family. As the pair neared the Burrow, Harry's falcon, which was flying high above the tops of the trees, saw a man and a boy emerge from a strange looking wooden house, and Harry assumed this was the girl's father. The boy he recognised as his erstwhile assailant, Ron.

Waking up the sleeping girl, Harry spoke softly to her. "Hey, we're nearly there. Your father is nearby."

Ginny's tired eyes opened as she comprehended her saviour's words. Barely a moment later, he stepped out of the trees into an open expanse of land, the farside of which stood a rickety wooden house. Striding across the meadow towards them came a tall, balding man and the gangly form of a quickly growing teenage boy.

"Dad?" called Ginny from her prone position in Harry's arms.

"Ginny!" shouted back Arthur Weasley, the relief evident in his voice. The two pairs came together about two hundred metres from the wooden house, and a tense moment passed as the Weasley patriach regarded the young man who carried his daughter in his arms.

"You?" hissed Ron, suddenly, as he realised why he recognised the youth opposite him.

"Shut up Ron, you big drama queen!" snapped Ginny. "Dad, this is Shadow. I fell in the woods on my way back from Luna's house and hurt my ankle pretty badly. He found me and helped me and fixed my ankle up. He's a wizard, Dad."

"Actually sir," Harry added. Your daughter's ankle was badly broken. I've healed it as best I can…" 

"And then he's carried me for the last two miles."

"Well then," spoke Arthur. "It looks like I owe you a debt of gratitude."

"Dad, no!" cried Ron. "This is the thug who…"

"Who you took a swing at and came off worst?" interjected Ginny, who was still languishing in Harry's strong arms. "You attacked him and you know it."

"Is this true Ron?" Arthur asked his son, sternly.

"Well, maybe it was more like that than I remembered."

"Well then, young man," continued Arthur. "I suggest you owe Mr. Shadow an apology."

"It's just Shadow, sir. And that's really not necessary. Protecting your family's honour is no crime," Harry protested.

"Maybe not, Shadow. But throwing a punch at a stranger is unacceptable behaviour. Ron?"

"Sorry," the teen mumbled, and he thrust his hands into his coat pockets, only to bring one of them out sharply. "Aaarrgghhh!"

"What's the matter now, son?"

"Scabbers bit me, the little rat."

Ron proceeded to reach back into his coat pocket, but more carefully this time, and he pulled out a rat, which he clutched to his chest. "Bad Scabbers," the boy admonished. Harry eyes were drawn to the rat in front of him. In the light of the moon, Harry's hawk-like eyesight honed in on the rodent's front paws.

"Ron," spoke Harry, suddenly. "Perhaps you should take your sister into the house now. I would like to talk to your father in private."

"Yeah, whatever. Give the little munchkin here then," responded Ron reluctantly, as he returned the rat to his coat pocket.

As Harry gently passed the girl in his arms over to her youngest brother, he whispered softly in her ear.

"Farewell, Ginny. I've a feeling we shall meet again, and we shall talk about your fox."

"Thankyou!" she whispered in return.

As the two siblings headed back towards the warmth of their cosy little house, Harry's gaze turned stony as he looked up into the tired face of Arthur Weasley.

"Sir, please listen to me very carefully."

"What is it, Shadow?"

"Your son's pet, Scabbers. That's no rat. It's an animagus called Peter Pettigrew."


	4. In which there are surprises for many

Well, here is the fourth chapter. I'd like to say a huge thankyou to Starry Night Blue who helps to make my story so much better than it would otherwise be.

Chapter 4: In which there are surprises for everyone

Harry's fifteenth birthday came and went, and the hot summer days passed. Finally, during the middle of August, came the gift that Harry had been waiting for. It was a gift not just for himself, but for Remus too, to a small extent and for Sirius especially. It was delivered in the form of the Daily Prophet. On that momentous day, Harry was awoken by the sound of his Godfather screaming.

"AAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH! MOOOOOOOONY? ADAM? GET DOWN HERE NOOOOOOOOW!"

Harry was awake in an instant. There was only one thing this could mean; Arthur Weasley had come through on his end of the deal. Arriving downstairs a short while later, Harry found a delirious Sirius and a stunned Remus. Both were sitting at the kitchen table, Sirius sporting the biggest smile it was physically possible to portray, while his best friend shook his head and muttered to himself. Harry stopped in the doorway and grinned at the pair.

"I see the paper arrived!"

Sirius turned to look at his Godson, and noticed the smug look on the boy's face.

"Did you know about this?"

"I may have had a slight involvement." Harry paused for a moment. "Surprise!" he added, lamely.

"I can't believe you knew and didn't tell me. Oh what the hell, I don't care. I'm going to be freeeeeeeeeeeeeee."

Harry moved over to the table and looked down at the newspaper that lay between the two men.

SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT – REAL BETRAYER OF POTTERS FOUND

By Rita Skeeter

In a sensational development that will shock Wizarding Britain, it was discovered late last night that Sirius Black, long believed to be a mass-murderer and betrayer of the late James and Lily Potter to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was completely innocent and framed by his one time friend Peter Pettigrew.

At around 10pm, Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry of Magic accompanied youngest son Ronald (15) to the DMLE. In what appeared to be an arranged meeting, the Weasleys met with Madam Bones, Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt and the Minister himself. The Daily Prophet had also been invited to have a reporter on hand at the Ministry.

Explaining to the assembled group, Arthur Weasley said "My son Ron had expressed an interest in becoming an animagus when he was older, so he had been reading up about it. In the course of his research, he realised that his pet rat was behaving strangely for a simple animal, and that it had lived an incredibly long time for a rat. He asked me to perform the spell that would revert an animagus to his or her human self, just so he could know if these oddities were real or imagined.

"To my extreme surprise and horror, the rat began to turn into a man. Not knowing who this was going to be I stunned the man. When the transformation was complete, I recognised the man as Peter Pettigrew, from when all those pictures were in the papers around the time the You-Know-Who was defeated by Harry Potter.

"At this point I contacted my Ministry colleague Auror Shacklebolt and we agreed on this course of action."

During the course of the interrogation by Auror Shacklebolt and Madam Bones, Arthur Weasley also insisted on his right to question the man who had been hiding out in his home for well over a decade. Reading questions from a written list, Weasley forced Pettigrew, who was under veritaserum, to admit that he had been the Potters' secret-keeper, not Black, and that he had betrayed them to the Dark Lord.

Later that same night, Pettigrew caused the explosion that killed thirteen muggles, before cutting off his own finger and disappearing in order to frame Black. As Pettigrew was taken away by Aurors, the Minister of Magic commended both Arthur and Ronald Weasley for their civic duty, and hinted that a reward would be given for the capture of a dangerous criminal. Both the Minister and Madam Bones also agreed that Sirius Black, whose whereabouts are currently unknown following his escape from Azkaban seven years ago, would receive a full acquittal, an apology and reparation for his unjust incarceration.

For further details turn to pages 2, 3, 4, 5, 7 and 10.

A few days later, the Prophet printed the story that Sirius Black had been proclaimed innocent of all charges by the Ministry of Magic, and that the demeanour of escaping from prison had been overlooked as part of the compensation for wrongful imprisonment in the first place. Peter Pettigrew had also been tried before the Wizengamot in those few days and had been sentenced to life in Azkaban.

Ron Weasley was never going to be academically outstanding, and apart from occasional emotional outbursts, he was generally a logical and intelligent person. In the days following the Scabbers saga, Ron spent many hours thinking about what had happened. At first he was angry at himself for not realising the rat was really a person. Anger gave way to disgust at the thought that he'd held the rat in his arms, caressed and stroked it. Finally irrational emotions gave way to reasoning, and he thought about how things had come to a head.

It was after that night when the Wolf Boy, Shadow, carried Ginny out of the woods. The boy had been polite and respectful to his father, and extremely gentle and kind to Ginny. He had even defended Ron's own impetuous actions to his father. But then the boy saw Scabbers and immediately sent him and Ginny into the house. The next day his father had brought an animagus book for him, and pushed him to study it. The story given to the Ministry was mostly true; it just didn't reflect the encouragement Ron had had from his father to read the book. It was almost as if everything was planned, and that boy was the catalyst. It must have been him who recognised Scabbers wasn't really a rat. Had his father known, he would certainly have acted sooner.

On the third day after the traitor was revealed, Ron was sitting at the kitchen table, lost in thought as usual. The twins were off somewhere creating mayhem and Ginny was in her room studying. Mrs. Weasley was bustling about the house as usual, tidying, cleaning and organising. She returned to the kitchen as a smart brown owl flew through the open back door and landed gracefully on the table in front of Ron. The tall teenager removed the letter that was attached to the bird's leg and it immediately it flew away, out of the Burrow and back from whence it came. Glancing at the envelope in his hands Ron was surprised to see it was addressed to him, and was adorned with the Ministry of Magic stamp. After a quick glance at his mother, who was watching him intently, he tore open the envelope and surveyed the contents. There was a long and wordy letter which commended Ron on doing his duty for society and other such verbose and condescending phrases. The crux of the missive, however, was the imparting of a reward for the apprehension of a Death Eater and dangerous criminal. The second piece of paper in the envelope was a Gringotts bank draught. For 500 Galleons. Ron Weasley's mouth fell open, moments before his whole body slipped onto the floor as he fainted.

"Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrggggghhhhh!" screamed Harry, as he thrashed around on his bed. Suddenly, Remus rushed into the room and saw the stricken boy, wrapped in the bed clothes that were damp with sweat. The werewolf sat on the edge of the bed and gripped his charge by the shoulders, and gently shook him awake.

"Adam? Adam? Wake up!"

As Harry's conscious mind took over, he was immediately aware of the ache in his forehead – the place where his scar was hidden under a permanent glamour charm. He hadn't thought about his scar in years, but suddenly this morning, it ached with a severity he hadn't thought possible.

"Adam, what is it? What's the matter?" asked a worried Remus.

Adam looked blearily around his bedroom. A few rays of sunlight were squeezing around the edges of his curtain, illuminating slices of dust particles that drifted around the room. The furniture was all in place; his messy desk, a bookcase overflowing with old and wondrous texts, the wardrobe. Remus was sat looking at him with concern, the wolf and the panther were both now awake and alert, sensing their master's distress.

"Bad dream, Moony. Really bad."

"Want to tell me about it?"

"No…Yes…In a minute. Let me get cleaned up first, OK?"

"No problem, junior. I'll make some coffee."

A short while later, Harry joined Remus in the cottage's kitchen, and sat at the heavy wooden table.

"Where's Sirius?" Harry asked.

"He's gone to the Ministry to get his official apology from Fudge. He should be back anytime soon, you did sleep pretty late."

Harry looked at the clock. It was nearly eleven already – that was late for Harry. "Let's wait until he gets back then. I only want to re-live this nightmare once."

Soon enough, Sirius returned with a grin so wide it looked as if his face might split open. His smile soon vanished when he saw the pale, quiet figure of his Godson, huddled over a cup of coffee and looking extremely pained.

"What's happened? Adam? Remus?"

"Sit down, Padfoot," began Remus. "Harry has something he needs to tell us about." Without hesitation Sirius took the seat next to Harry, while Remus sat opposite. Both waited patiently for Harry to begin his explanation.

"Well, I was having this dream, although it wasn't like a dream. It seemed so much more real. I mean…dreams are vague and change scenes and are generally weird, right? But this was so vivid, so completely sharp. It didn't feel like a normal dream at all. Does that make sense?"

"Of course it does, Adam," said Remus quickly as he saw Sirius start to shake his head. "What happened in this….vision?"

"Well, everything happened in a graveyard. There was a large cauldron that was bubbling away on a fire and a man dressed in black, who was carrying what looked like a baby to start with, but was actually some hideous baby sized creature…

"…and then this…person, stood up and stepped out of the cauldron. The other man put a black robe on him. The person was strange, very strange. His face looked almost snakelike, and his eyes burned with a hateful passion. He pressed one of his fingers onto a tattoo on the other man's arm, and that's when my scar burst with pain and I cried out, and Moony woke me up."

Remus and Sirius both looked horrified by Harry's story, and it showed clearly on their faces.

"What? It was just a dream, wasn't it?"

"Most likely," said Sirius, a little too quickly.

"Adam," Remus spoke slowly. "We need to speak to Dumbledore. I think you should tell him about this dream."

"Why?"

There was a pause before Remus answered. "Because, I think your dream was about Voldemort."

Albus Dumbledore was busy working through papers in his office, getting ready for the school year that would begin shortly. There were many tasks to complete before the start of term; new students to learn about, staffing issues, budgets, timetables to ratify, prefect and Quidditch captains to appoint, supplies to order….

It was a welcome relief when a brown post owl – of the kind used by the Hogsmeade Post Office – flew in through his open window and deposited a letter on top of his other documents. The envelope was addressed simply; only his name was written, without all the usual titles that official correspondence was adorned with. Using a beautifully crafted paper knife, the old headmaster cut open the envelope pulled out the short letter that was inside.

Professor Dumbledore,

Sirius Black and I are at the Hogs Head. There is someone here you should meet. It is extremely important. Please come alone.

Regards,

Remus Lupin

Dumbledore read the note several times looking for a reason not to believe in its validity. Each time however, his curiosity increased further as to whom this mystery person could be. He also knew he had fences to mend with both men, especially Black. With a slight sense of excitement and a hint of anxiety, the revered educator left his office, bound for the village of Hogsmeade.

A short while later, Albus Dumbledore entered the dark and dreary inn that was run by his brother Aberforth. The few patrons who were in the tavern at this time of day seemingly paid the old man no heed as he approached the counter, behind which his sibling was wiping dirty glasses with an equally dirty cloth.

"Aberforth!" called the headmaster, in greeting.

"They're upstairs, in the private room," replied the younger of the two brothers. Albus nodded once before heading into the back of the pub and up the stairs. The second floor of the Hogs Head was as equally small as the ground floor. There were meagre living quarters, which Aberforth occupied, and a small room which was used for those patrons who wished to have a private conversation. In a place like the Hogs Head, this room was well utilised.

Albus arrived at the door to the private room, but paused for a moment to listen to the voices inside. The two voices he could make out were vaguely familiar, which was comforting. He had not seen Lupin or Black for many years, and was pleased to discover he still recognised their voices. Still wondering who they wanted him to meet, Dumbledore knocked firmly on the door, waited for a moment, then entered the room.

"Good morning, Professor Dumbledore." It was Remus who spoke first. He rose from his seat at the plain wooden table and offered his hand to his former headmaster, which was gratefully accepted. "It's been a long time."

"Indeed it has. Good morning to you Remus, and you Sirius."

"Headmaster," replied Padfoot.

"It is a long time since I have been a Professor or headmaster to either of you. Please call me Albus."

"As you wish, Albus," said Remus, taking control of the meeting once more. "Please sit down with us."

"Thank you, Remus. If I am honest, I am pleasantly surprised by the warmth of your greeting. I have done you both a serious disservice, for which I apologise unreservedly. If there is anything I can do. For either of you."

It was Sirius who responded to his former headmaster. "Times were hard back then, confusing and testing, we all know that. But the past is exactly that, the past, and my anger has long since diminished. There is something we want from you, which is why we called you here to meet us." Sirius gestured to the corner of the room, where Harry had been quietly lurking in the shadows, unnoticed, observing the old man. Harry stepped forward and took the final place at the table.

"Albus, this is Adam. We would like you to admit him to Hogwarts."

Albus Dumbledore stared at the young man who was now sat across the table from him. In his relief at receiving a gracious welcome from the two Marauders, he had not noticed this young man in the corner behind him. The teen had black hair and amazingly green eyes, just like…

Harry watched the old man staring at him. He could almost see the cogs whirring in the old man's head as he took in Harry's appearance. After a few moments, a look of surprise flashed across the wizened face.

Dumbledore concentrated hard on the boy's forehead. There was a glamour charm there. "It can't be…you're not…"

"Dead?" offered Harry. Remus and Sirius looked stunned at Dumbledore's loss of composure. This man never lost his cool.

"Are you really Harry Potter?"

"I am."

"Well, my boy, I can't tell you how pleased I am to find you. Where have you been all this time? It was safe for you at the Dursley's house in Surrey…"

"Just stop there for a second, old man," interrupted Harry. "Just be quiet and listen for a moment. The Dursley's kept me in a cupboard. I was neglected, abused, starved and generally hated. When I was five I was driven to London and left outside an orphanage. The lady who took me in had to give me a name because I didn't know what mine was. My family had only ever called me 'useless boy' or 'stupid freak'. That place was not safe for me."

"Harry, I…I thought it best that you went to your family…" said the Headmaster quietly.

"Those people hated my parents," Harry spat back. "Why do you think it was stated in their will that I should not go to them if something happened?" Seeing the surprise on Dumbledore's face, Harry continued his rant. "Yes, that's right. I've seen their will. Their final instructions that you saw fit to ignore. What gave you the right, Dumbledore? What gave you the right?"

"Harry, I…"

"Don't call me Harry. Harry Potter is dead. Harry Potter ceased to exist the moment you abandoned him on the doorstep of his relatives."

"I'm sorry, Adam." Dumbledore spoke the name very deliberately. "Wizarding society is a fickle place. I wanted to protect you from the spotlight, so you could grow up away from all the attention you were bound to receive."

"You're the most influential person in Wizarding society, and head of the British Wizarding legal system. If anyone is responsible for the state of our society then it's you, Professor. You may have been trying to protect me from the monster that is our world, a monster that you, by your inaction feed and nurture, but in giving that protection, you sent me into hell."

Dumbledore was stunned by the vehemence in Harry's voice. He knew he'd made a mistake placing the boy with the Dursley's several years previously when he'd discovered they had dumped him in an orphanage, but the stinging ferocity of this young man's words brought home to the old headmaster the gravity of his error.

A few moments of silence passed, during which Dumbledore was pensive, Remus quiet as he considered Harry's unusually emotive words, Sirius looked at his Godson with concern and Harry sat still, drained and anguished. Finally, it was Harry who broke the deadlock, as he got up suddenly, knocking his chair to the ground behind him.

"I need a drink," Harry muttered as he strode out of the room. Sirius began to rise, intending on following Harry but Remus stopped his friend.

"Give him a minute Padfoot."

A short while later, Sirius found Harry sat at the bar, nursing an empty Butterbeer bottle.

"You OK, kid?"

"Fine."

"Yeah, right!"

When Harry didn't respond, Sirius spoke again. "You know you have to go back up there, don't you?" Harry turned his head and looked at his Godfather quizzically. "You have to tell him about the dream you had. That's why we came here after all, isn't it?"

"I don't want his help."

"No, I don't suppose you do, but as you said, he is a very influential person. If Voldemort has returned, Dumbledore needs to know. He can speak to the public with authority; influence the Ministry, that sort of thing. Society at large needs to be warned, wouldn't you agree?"

"I guess."

Upon returning to the small room above the bar, Harry recounted his dream to the old Professor, who listened intently, asked pertinent questions and seemed convinced that this was no dream but a vision of events actually transpiring. It was the headmaster's theory that some kind of mental link may have established between Harry and Voldemort when the killing curse had been cast, and this link had been the conduit for this vision.

After much discussion, about the vision, Voldemort, and the threat he posed, it was agreed by all present – some more reluctantly than others – that it was time Harry attended Hogwarts, largely for his own safety. As soon as the decision was made, Sirius and Harry left, in order to spare Harry all the planning for something he didn't want to have to do. Remus stayed with Dumbledore to make the arrangements for Harry's transfer to Hogwarts.

Dumbledore and Remus walked back to Hogwarts after Sirius and Harry had left. The pair chatted reasonably amiably, considering they had only reconciled their relationship barely an hour earlier. Back at the school, they Remus convinced the old man that Harry would be perfectly well placed in his own age group, and that he needed no special tutoring in any subject. As the topic moved round the curriculum to History of Magic, Dumbledore made Remus an unexpected offer.

"Remus, I'm sure you remember Professor Binns?"

"Of course, Albus. I think I'm the only one of my class who managed not to sleep through his classes."

"That's my point, Remus. He really is frightfully boring, and children's heads are rarely interested in Goblins from hundreds of years ago. Not before time, I have decided on a change of scenery in the History classroom. This may seem sudden, given that we have only recently become reacquainted, but I would like to offer you the position of History of Magic teacher. I think it will be good for Adam to have you here, but I do believe you will do an excellent job."

"Wow! I don't know what to say, Albus. I certainly wasn't expecting that."

"Maybe you should think about it for a few days."

"I think I will. I should talk to Sirius and Adam as well." Remus stood up to take his leave. "Goodbye, Professor Dumbledore. I'll be in touch soon."

"Goodbye, Remus."

Remus Lupin walked through the empty corridors and halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, turning over in his mind the headmaster's offer. Making his way through the ancient castle more on instinct than conscious thought, Moony soon found himself at the main door and striding down the path to the gated entrance to Hogwarts grounds. Still a little stunned by Dumbledore's offer, Remus Disapparated back to Devon, eager to tell Sirius and Harry his news.

The remaining days of August disappeared quickly in a rush of preparations for both Harry and Remus, who were both going to Hogwarts. Sirius was planning for a trip around the world and was equally busy as the other two. The most noteworthy activity during the final days had been the purchase of Harry's wand. Although he was entirely proficient with wandless magic, it had been agreed to keep this fact hidden as much as possible, lest the wrong people learned of this talent. For Harry, this was simply the natural way, what he was used to after ten years of practice. Most wizards used a wand to focus their magic through a channel and out again in the form of a specific spell. In contrast, Harry had learnt as a child to focus his magic without the aid of a wand. There was no extraordinary power or talent, as far as he was concerned, that's just how it was done.

Harry had stood in Ollivander's shop with a wand thrust into in his hand by the strange old man. "Well give it a wave," Ollivander had said, apparently amused by Harry's ineptitude. After many tests, the shopkeeper finally found a wand suited to Harry; it was made of holly with a phoenix feather core. Ollivander had seemed to be intrigued by this match between wand and wizard, Harry noticed, but he made no comment about it. Harry every spare moment since practising casting spells he had read about, with mixed success. A lot of the time, he focussed to heavily on saying the wands and moving the words to let his magic flow through his arm and hand and into the wand. It was when Harry stopped trying too hard and let the magic flow that spell-casting became successful. Harry quickly learnt that some things were more effective cast with a wand – precise actions like levitating a specific, small object for example. He could never heal a wound in this way, however, as he would instinctively spread his hands over an injured area, or around a broken limb.

Finally, September 1st came around, and fifteen year old Harry, accompanied by Sirius arrived at Kings Cross station, ready for him to catch the Express. Remus had gone straight to the school rather than take the train, not wanting to get in Harry's way as he met new people, people his own age for the first time. After saying an emotional farewell to his Godfather, Harry boarded the first gleaming red carriage, and began walking up the train's corridor, searching for an empty compartment. At the back of the train, most of the compartments were beginning to fill. Towards the front, there were many spaces, so Harry picked one at random and sat on the padded bench seat, facing the way the train would travel. It was nearly eleven o'clock when the door to the compartment slid open, though Harry continued to stare out of the window.

"Excuse me, but do you mind if…" a girl's voice started asking, but it trailed off when Harry turned to look at her.

"Adam?" the girl asked, her voice sounding almost disbelieving

"Yeah?"

"Adam Black?"

"How do you know who I am?"

"Don't you remember me? I'm Grace."

"From St. Christopher's?" The girl beamed as comprehension dawned on the black-haired boy's face. "Is it really you?"

Grace didn't answer but rushed into the compartment to give Harry a huge hug, which he returned rather awkwardly. He hadn't seen this girl for seven years, and she had changed considerably. Now that Harry knew who she was, he could recognise the smiling child in this attractive teenager as the first person he ever considered to be a friend.

"Ahem!" A polite voice in the doorway tried to get the attention of the two old friends. Grace pulled away from Harry and turned back to the door, where her cousin was standing patiently, but with a bemused expression.

"I' m sorry, cuz'. This is Adam; we were friends at the orphanage. Adam, this is my cousin, Hermione."

Having waited for her introduction, the second girl stepped into the compartment and offered her hand to Harry. She was not exceptionally tall, or particularly short and had a pretty face, but not an obviously beautiful one. Her brown hair was thick and wavy – a band was struggling to keep all the loose strands back from her face. Unlike most of those students Harry had seen on the station and train, this girl was already wearing her black school robes, and pinned prominently next to the school crest was a shiny new prefect's badge.

"Hermione Granger," the girl said, as Harry shook her hand. "I'm one of the Gryffindor prefect's for the fifth year. I assume you are starting at Hogwarts? What year are you going to be in?"

Hermione asked many questions, which Harry generally answered politely but with brief responses. He was more far more eager to talk to Grace than her extremely curious cousin. Thankfully, it was not too long before Hermione announced that she had to go to the prefect's carriage, ready for the meeting. Harry had no idea what that could be about, but he was glad the girl was leaving. Grace and Harry spent the next few hours telling each other about their lives. The blonde-haired girl had caused the explosion at the orphanage when she was mercilessly picked on by older boys. Her anger had triggered a massive flash of accidental magic, which caused some gas cylinders to rupture. Remarkably, Grace had survived reasonably unscathed, despite the loss of life to several other children. It was at this time that the Orphanage had been forced to close. Money had always been tight for Mrs. Rutherford and the cost of repair to the building would have broken her financially. The remaining orphans at the home where either shipped off to other orphanages, or for the lucky few, distant relatives were found who were willing to take in their kin.

Hermione and Grace were not first cousins, but something like second or third. Nevertheless, Grace had been welcomed into Granger household, and Hermione and her had lived like sisters ever since. Whilst Hermione had been sorted into Gryffindor, Grace's geniality had led her into Hufflepuff, where she was popular, but not academically outstanding.

Harry, for his part told Grace about Sirius and Remus, and the house the lived in the forest in Devon. He talked about the forest and the local villages, mentioning that he had met Luna Lovegood and Ginny and Ronald Weasley. He shared a little of what he learned about his parents, how they were kind, loving and good people, but had been killed by Voldemort.

Several hours into the journey, Harry and Grace had finished telling their respective stories, and were sitting mostly in comfortable silence, occasionally chatting about something inconsequential. At some point a couple of new first years had asked to share the compartment, to which neither objected, but both were now asleep.

The next visitor to their compartment was Ronald Weasley, who was extremely surprised to see his so-called assailant sitting staring out of the window. Harry looked at the shell-shocked red-head, whom he noticed was also sporting a Gryffindor prefect badge, and nodded his head in recognition. Flustered by this curt but obvious greeting, Ron paused a moment before returning the acknowledgement.

"Did you want something, Ron?" Grace asked.

"Err…I was looking for Hermione."

"She's not been here since before your prefects' meeting. If she comes back I'll tell her you were looking for her, okay?"

"Um…yeah, thanks." Ron began sliding the compartment door closed, when Harry called out to him.

"How's your sister, Weasley?"

The door slid back open forcefully, hitting the frame with a bang.

"What?" Ron snapped.

"Your sister's ankle. Is it all better now?" Harry asked calmly.

"Oh, yeah. It's fine."

Harry nodded again at the red-head who had tried to punch him. Unable to find fault with Harry's attitude, Ron slid the door closed and stomped off up the train corridor, looking both for Hermione and the lady with the sweet trolley.

In another compartment, elsewhere on the train, two friends were enjoying their ride to Hogwarts, passing the time reading and chatting. They had seen each other several times over the summer holidays, as they lived in neighbouring villages, on either side of a small forest.

"Luna?" asked the red-haired girl.

The dirty-blonde Luna Lovegood looked up from the latest edition of The Quibbler, which she was reading upside down. "Yes, Ginny?"

"In the woods near your home, have you ever seen a…" Ginny trailed off.

"Seen a what, Ginny?"

"A boy."

"A boy?"

"Yes."

"Of course. Lots of people walk through the woods, especially in the summer. I often watch them and wonder why they are just walking. There are so many amazing creatures to see but no-one ever seems to pay any notice. Especially the boys. They're always more interested in picking up sticks and hiding from their parents…"

"No," interrupted Ginny, as her slightly scatty friend went off on a rant about something else. "A particular boy, dressed in black, with a pet wolf."

"A boy dressed in black with a pet wolf?"

"I know it sounds crazy, but that time when I decided to walk home from your house, I fell and hurt my ankle pretty badly. This boy appeared and healed it, and then he carried me about two miles back to The Burrow. He was so strong, but kind and gentle. Mysterious too – he wouldn't tell me anything about himself. My brother's have seen him in the village a few times I think. He said his name was Shadow."

"I'm sorry Ginny," said Luna. "I've never seen a boy dressed in black called Shadow with a pet wolf."

"Oh. Never mind. I just…"

"But I have met a boy dressed in black with a pet wolf called Adam."

Eventually, the bright, warm sunlight faded to leave behind a cool late summer evening. The Hogwarts Express pulled into the small station at the village of Hogsmeade. Harry knew he was supposed to go with the first years and take a boat across the lake to the school, so he said his goodbyes to Grace and followed the large booming voice that called down the platform.

"Firs' years! Firs' years this way!"

Grace fought her way through the throng of students, looking for her dorm-mates, eventually finding them near the Thestral-pulled carriages. Grace had always been able to see the Thestrals, and having asked Hagrid about them one day, she assumed that it was because of the accident at the orphanage.

"Have a nice journey?" one of her friends giggled at her.

"Yes thank you. Why didn't you come and find me?"

"Well," began another of her friends. "We saw your cousin and asked her where you were, and she told us you were in a compartment with a boy, and that you probably didn't want to be disturbed."

"So? Who is it?"

"And is he a good kisser?"

"WHAT? You think I was…Well I wasn't. He's an old friend who I haven't seen for many years. And we talked." Grace was exasperated by her friends' assumptions, but then they were fifteen year old girls.

"So?" asked one of them.

"So what?"

"Is he a good kisser?"

"I. Don't. Know."

"Well, at least tell us what he looks like. Is he hot?"

The doors to the Great Hall opened in front of the gaggle of nervous first years, and led by the stern Professor McGonagall, they shuffled their way along the centre aisle of the hall. As the first years moved on, Harry stopped for a moment in the doorway to take in the magnificence that was Hogwarts' Great Hall. On the far left, was the Slytherin table. Next were the Ravenclaws and across the aisle the proud Gryffindors. To the far right of the hall was the Hufflepuff table, where Harry's eyes scanned first, looking for Grace. She saw him looking for her and waved, ignoring the giggles coming from her closest house-mates.

Sweeping his gaze up the other tables, Harry next noticed the girl he had met in the woods near his home, Luna Lovegood. As he walked slowly across the hall towards the waiting first years and the sorting area, he stopped briefly next to Luna, who had turned to look at him.

"Hello Adam," she said, in her usual airy tone.

"It's nice to see you, Luna," Harry replied, before he continued up the hall. Further along, he stopped again, for he had seen someone else he recognised – at the Gryffindor table. Her long, fiery, red hair fell down her back, and amazingly seemed to reflect the glow of the thousands of candles that floated above their heads. In complete disregard of the first years and the impatient deputy headmistress who was waiting to begin the sorting ceremony, Harry stooped so he could whisper in the ear of Ginny Weasley.

"I told you we'd meet again, Miss Weasley."

Ginny turned to look at him, her face etched with surprise, for she had not noticed Harry enter the hall.

"And I haven't forgotten about the fox, either."

Not giving her a chance to respond, Harry straightened up, and continued the last few steps to the front of the hall, where Professor McGonagall looked at him icily.

"Have you quite finished greeting your friends, Mr. Black?"

Harry responded only by shrugging slightly and giving a faint nod. After one final glare at Harry, Professor McGonagall looked down at her parchment and began the sorting ceremony. The first years gradually dispersed to the four tables across the Great Hall, and soon only Harry remained. Not sure what to expect of his sorting, he sat on the stool and placed the floppy and tattered old hat upon his head.

"My goodness, what have we got here? Finally Harry Potter has arrived at Hogwarts. Going by the name Black now I see…well, let's have a look then. My you are an interesting one. There's a piece of everything in you, courage, cunning, loyalty and cleverness…Hmm…where to place you…"

The hat pause for hat seemed like an age to Harry, before it continued. "I've considered everything, and based on your current position of duplicity, I place you in…SLYTHERIN."


	5. In which Harry and Ginny talk I

Aren't I good to you, posting another chapter already? Well, the story is all about Harry and Ginny from here on in. I hope you enjoy it.

Mega thanks to SNB, as always

Chapter 5: In which Harry and Ginny talk I

"…SLYTHERIN."

The voice of the Sorting Hat rang out through the Great Hall. Not wishing to spend any more time under the gaze of every person present, Harry removed the ancient hat from his head, and handed it to Professor McGonagall before makinghis way to the Slytherin table. "This'll make it easier to mess with the Snakes," hethought to himself, as he squeezed into an empty space, which happened to be next to a first year called Naomi Crabbe.

Two tables over, the Weasley twins were watching the newest Slytherin closely.

"Hey, Ron!" George called down the table, in a sort of whisper. Ron Weasley snapped his head round to look at his older brothers.

"Isn't that the guy who…?" asked Fred, but Ron cut him off.

"Yes," he shot back, hoping that Fred didn't finish his question out loud.

"And he's the same guy who helped…?"

"Yes!" Ron snapped. "Now shush."

Not that the twins cared particularly, but half of the Gryffindor table was listening to the half-whispered conversation between the Weasley siblings. Before the discussion could escalate further, however, Professor Dumbledore was on his feet.

"To staff and students, old and new alike, welcome to another year at Hogwarts. For those of you who are wondering, Mr. Black will be joining the fifth year. I ask that all of you make him feelwelcome." The headmaster paused at this point, to look across each of the house tables, lingering longest on the Gryffindors, and gazing deliberately at the place where the fifth years sat.

"I have one staffing change to announce. After many years, Professor Binns has decided to leave his post and continue on to his next great adventure." Within the students, many mutterings of surprise and satisfaction could be heard. "Please join me in welcoming Professor Lupin, who will be your new History of Magic teacher." Almost every non-Slytherin student in the school clapped and cheered Remus raucously. Even the Slytherins clapped politely, as everyone was pleased that Binns was gone, and hoped that tedious lectures about Goblin rebellions would be a thing of the past.

"Finally, some announcements before we begin the feast…"

The headmaster made his notices, but within a few minutes, the tables were laden with sumptuous food and refreshing drinks, for one and all to satiate themselves. Harry was happily eating his dinner, wondering which of the faces down the long table were the fifth years', when a small voice to his side spoke up.

"So, Adam Black. How come you didn't come to Hogwarts before now?" It was the first year, Naomi Crabbe.

"It was never the right time," Harry responded, trying to be as vague as possible.

"Oh. My name is Naomi. Naomi Crabbe. My big brother is down there." She pointed at the larger students, towards the middle of the table. "He's the big, ugly one sitting next to the blonde-haired boy."

"It sounds like you don't care for him much," Harry probed.

"He's an idiot. Let's himself get ordered around by that blonde. He's called Draco Malfoy."

The conversation continued, with Harry subtly interrogating the young Miss Crabbe for information on all the Slytherin fifth years. By the end of dinner, he learnt many useful bits and pieces about Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Theodore Nott. The other boy in the fifth year, Blaise Zabini, Naomi didn't know much about, as his family generally kept out of pureblood politics. She also knew plenty about Pansy Parkinson and a little on Millicent Bulstrode.

Soon enough, dinner came to an end, and the students were dismissed back to their dormitories. As Harry filed out of the Great Hall with the rest of the school, he stole a glance at Remus, who saw and gave a smile in return. On his way out through the large hall doors, Harry found himself rubbing shoulders with Ginny Weasley.

"Hello again!" Harry whispered.

"Hi, Shadow," she replied with a smile. "When can we…?" she began but trailed off as Harry followed the other Slytherins in a different direction.

Harry listened to the seventh year Prefects' explanation of where the dormitories were, and what the password to the common room was going to be for the next week. Harry soon tired of listening to the guy drone on about Slytherin traditions and values, and fell into a reasonably comfortable black leather armchair, next to a roaring fire. Soon afterwards, thechair opposite Harry was taken by Blaise Zabini, who sat and regarded Harry closely, as if sizing him up. Between them, and opposite the fire was a similarly styled black leather sofa, with room enough for three people. This seat soon filled with girls, approximately Harry's own age. He watched them subtly, taking in their different scents and appearances. Unlike Zabini, the girls chattered away about inconsequential matters that Harry tuned out.

Looking around the Slytherin common room, Harry was not surprised to see it furnished in green, black and silver. All the chairs were upholstered with black leather. Carpets and curtains were shades of green, and door handles, candlesticks and the like were all wrought silver, in most cases depicting snakes or serpents or something similar. All in all, the room had a ruthless, efficient feel about it. There was nothing to make its occupants feel welcome or at home, which Harry certainly did not.

He was about to think through what he was going to say to Ginny Weasley the next time he saw her,when he heard three sets of footsteps coming near, and the unmistakeable smell of hair gel. Harry turned his head slightly to see Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle had approached him. Feigning a look of nonchalance, Harry turned to look into the fire.

"Hey, Black!" called a haughty voice. Harry turned to look at the blonde boy.

"Who are you?" he replied dismissively.

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. And you are sitting in my seat."

"Your seat?" responded Harry sarcastically. "I had no idea you owned this seat. It must have your name on it somewhere then?" he added, making a big show of pretending to look for Draco's name written on the leather somewhere.

"No, I don't own it, you moron, it's where I always sit. Now move, or…"

"Or what, Smallboy? You'll set your slaves on me?"

"Hey!" piped up Crabbe. "We're not his slaves."

"Oh, he pays you to obey his orders. I didn't realise." Harry turned from Crabbe back to Malfoy. "Or what, Smallboy? You'll set your servants on me?"

"Oi!" called Goyle this time. "We ain't servants, neither."

This was all too easy to Harry, and he made a mental note to thank Naomi Crabbe, and tell her about this conversation. "So why do you follow him around and do what he tells you?" Harry asked the two henchmen, completely ignoring Draco.

"What? We don't…err…"

"He doesn't…"

"Crabbe? Goyle? Shut up!" snapped Malfoy.

"Don't you tell me to shut up, Malfoy," retorted Crabbe.

"Yeah, Malfoy. You shut up," added Goyle. "Come on, Vinnie, let's go and find some more to eat."

As the two lumbering brutes headed off towards the dormitories, Harry focused on Draco Malfoy once again.

"What was it you wanted, Smallboy?"

"It's Malfoy. You're sitting in…" Draco began, proverbial steam coming out of his ears, but trailed off, turned on his heel and stomped away towards the common room's exit. Harry sat back in the armchair and laid his head on the back of the seat. The girlson the sofa, who had stopped gossiping to watch the boys argue resumed their inane chattering, and Zabini, Harry assumed, went back to his silent contemplation. After a few minutes, in which Harry decided he would talk to the cute Weasley girl as soon as possible, Zabini finally spoke up.

"You know, Black, I've been sitting here wondering whether you really belonged in Slytherin, but after watching you dismantle Malfoy like that, I'm in no doubt."

"Why thank you, Zabini." The coloured boy momentarily showed his surprise at being called by name before replacing his mask of indifference.

The two fifth year Slytherins conversed politely for a short while, allowing Harry to find out a little about how the school operated. As September 1st had fallen on a Saturday, the following Sunday was essentially a free day for most students, seeing asthough no lessons had taken place and no homework had been assigned yet. Of course, there was the occasional forgetful pupil who had not completed a summer assignment and was grateful of this fortunate day. After a while though, Harry bade Blaise Zabini a goodnight, and retired to find his dormitory and his bed.

A few diagnostic spells revealed to Harry that nothing untoward had happened to either his bed or his belongings, and despite sharing a dorm-room with Draco Malfoy, the night passed uneventfully.

Even after taking a detour via the Owlery, Harry was still one of the first to arrive at the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning. Without the excited chatter of the entire school and the adrenalin rush that accompanied the Sorting ceremony, Harry took a few moments to admire the grandeur and majesty of Hogwarts' largest room. The high vaulted ceilings, hundreds of feet above the long house tables disappeared into the incredible illusion that mimicked the real sky outside. The walls of the Great Hall were festooned with stone tableaux, rich tapestries and shining suits of armour, which stood mounted on plinths in the walls, like sentinels guarding the children below.

Harry ate a leisurely breakfast as he watched the various members of the school community arrive for breakfast. The students appeared slowly at first, whereasthe staff members were soon all seated in their usual places. Dumbledore acknowledged Harry's presence with a slight nod, although this action was repeated to those students at every table. At the end of the staff table sat a tall, dark, greasy-haired man, whom Harry recognised easily from Sirius' and Remus' descriptions. Snape proceeded to observe Harry carefully, wondering about his newest charge, trying to decide what to make of the boy who shared a name with one of his old school enemies.

Harry was busy watching the comings and goings of his fellow students when Naomi Crabbe sat beside him at the Slytherin table.

"Hello, Adam," said the first year.

"Good morning, Miss Crabbe," responded Harry. The young girl giggled at being called 'Miss'.

"What are you going to do today then? I'm going to go exploring with the other girls in my room. Do you want to come with us?"

"Thank you for asking, but I have other plans for today. There are people I need to talk to."

"That's right; I remember when you came in. You stopped to talk to two girls, didn't you? Is that who you have to talk to?" Harry didn't answer this question, but merely raised an eyebrow at her.

"Knowledge is power, Adam. Even if it is school gossip."

The arrival of a gaggle of Gryffindors took Harry's attention away from the young girl beside him - among them were Grace's cousin, whom Harry remembered meeting on the train, Ronald Weasley, whom Harry would never forget, and of course the person to whom Harry's eyes were immediately drawn, Ginny Weasley.

"So it's the Weasley girl, then?" piped up a quiet voice near Harry's right elbow. Harry turned to the girl and tried to give her a withering look, but he wasn't really bothered by her, and she didn't even particularly notice his expression anyway.

The hall was as full as it was going to get now, with only a few spare seats to be found on each of the house tables, left empty by those very early risers or by those deciding to take full advantage of the day off and stay in bed. With breakfast attendance at its peak, a torrent of owls of all shapes and sizes flooded down into the hall from an open window high above the staff table. As excited children grabbed at packages of forgotten itemsand letters of encouragement from loved ones, few people noticed the black falcon darting between the owls towards a certain red-haired Gryffindor.

Ginny had barely begun buttering a piece of toast when Errol, her family's old post owl landed haphazardly on the Gryffindor table, bearing a package for Ron. No doubt it contained some essential item that he had forgotten to bring; Ginny wondered if it was his brain. A moment later, Hermione's gasp cut above Ron's mumbles about the old owl, and Ginny looked up to see what had surprised her friend. Amongst the owls darting down towards the students, a black falcon was hovering, a scrap of parchment clutchedin its talons. As Ginny looked at the bird, it dropped the parchment onto her plate, before disappearing up into the maelstrom of wings and hooting. Ginny snatched up the small piece of parchment, curious as to its message. Glancing at the note, she saw it was written in a rough, scruffy hand. The few words were straight to the point.

After breakfast. Entrance hall.

Look in the _Shadows._

Instinctively, Ginny spun her head round to look at the Slytherin table, but she could not see him sitting there. As she turned to scan the hall, she noticed someone with black hair disappearing out of the doors.

"Ginny!" whispered Hermione in her ear.

"Ginny!" The older girl tried again when she wouldn't answer. Ginny turned back to her breakfast and her friend.

"Well? What does it say? And why did you look at the Slytherin table? Is it from Adam Black?"

"Shhh!" hissed Ginny, while jerking her head at her brother who was sat opposite. Fortunately, Ron had been too busy trying to retrieve his package from the exhausted Errol to notice Ginny receive a note, or the type of bird that delivered it.

"Yes, it's from him."

"Why do you suppose he has a falcon, not an owl? As far as I know, only one other person used falcons to deliver messages – Grindelwald. He used them to send death sentences to his victims…"

Ginny tuned out the droning voice of Hermione as she went into full lecture mode, and went back to her breakfast. Ron had finally got Errol sent on his way and was making short work of a plateful of bacon, eggs and sausages. Halfway through a second slice of toast, Ginny noticed Hermione had finished her spiel.

"Ginny, did you listen to anything I said?"

"Not really, Herms," replied Ginny, receiving a disapproving look in return. "Look, he just wants to talk to me, OK? And to be quite honest, I want to talk to him. Just don't tell Ron, alright?"

One of the few people in the Great Hall who had noticed the black falcon, was Albus Dumbledore. Despite his grand age, somewhere in the one hundred and fifties, his observation skills remained as sharp as a new pin. The bird had immediately caught his attention and he watched intently as it flew to Ginevra Weasley, and how she immediately spun around tolook at the Slytherin table. It didn't take a genius to work out who she was looking for, not after he had spoken to her as part of his dramatic entrance. Intrigued by the nature of the relationship between Miss Weasley and the disguised Harry Potter, the old man finished up his breakfast in quiet thought.

It wasn't long before both Ginny and Hermione had had their fill of breakfast fare, and they headed out of the Great Hall. Ron was still at the table, scoffing a few slices of toast and chatting animatedly about Quidditch with his dorm-mates. As usual, Hermione Granger was talking about her studies.

"…But when I got to chapter seventeen, I really started to get confused. I mean, what on Earth is 'Reverse polarity arithmantic exponentialism' supposed to be?" asked Hermione as the two girls crossed the Entrance Hall.

"I asked myself that very same question, Miss Granger," came a voice from behind them, making the girls jump with surprise. As Ginny and Hermione turned round, the owner of the voice continued.

"Fortunately, by the time you get to chapter nineteen, it all falls into place. Yes, I was really bad company on my eleventh birthday. I expect my Godfather regretted buying me that book. I was so absorbed in it that by the evening I still hadn't said a word to anyone all day."

"You…you…you read _Ultimate Arithmantic Theory for Geniuses_ when you were eleven?" asked Hermione, almost in shock.

"Nah. I'm just kidding. I read it this summer. Didn't understand a word of it the first time through. After the third time though, it began to make sense. Now, if you'll excuse me, Miss Granger, I have an appointment with Miss Weasley." Harry turned slightly to face Ginny. "Shall we?" he asked, offering his arm.

Hermione was still standing in the Entrance Hall contemplating the fact that Black was more advanced than she was in Arithmancy studies, when Ron came out of the Great Hall.

"Hey, Hermione! Was that Ginny going off with some bloke?"

"Yes, Ronald, it was. And if you don't want a message from a black falcon prescribing your untimely demise, I suggest you don't make a big deal out of it." Hermione smirked at Ron's confused expression, turned on her heel and headed towards the library, with the tall red-head trailing along after her.

Ginny Weasley and the boy she knew as Adam Black, or Shadow, wandered arm in arm out through the great, oak doors of Hogwarts. As they strolled casually down the cinder path towards the gates where the winged boar statues stood guard, Ginny wondered excitedly aboutwhat he was going to tell her. She had started to talk as soon as they left the castle, but he quickly hushed her with a whispered "Not yet. Not here."

The path wound along the edge of the Forbidden Forest for a time, and at the precise spot where the castle was out of sight for a few paces, Harry steered Ginny into the trees.

"Adam, we can't go in here. It's forbidden. As in 'The Forbidden Forest'."

Harry laughed momentarily before answering the red-head. "Where's your Gryffindor sense of adventure? Besides, your fox will like it in here."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, aren't Gryffindors supposed to be brave and rash…?"

"No, you joker. What do you mean about the fox liking it in here?"

"All in good time, my dear Miss Weasley."

"Where are we going anyway?"

"There's a clearing, about half a mile in, according to my falcon."

"You can talk to your falcon?"

"Of course not. Whoever heard of a person who could talk to birds?"

"But how do you…?"

"All in good time," Harry interrupted.

Ginny harrumphed in dissatisfaction at Harry's answer, but he appeared not to notice, but continued making his way through the tangled undergrowth, towards an opening in the trees some way ahead.

It took about little while, but the pair eventually made it to the clearing to which they had been headed. The late summer sun was still low in the sky and the air in the forest opening was cool and damp. The trees in this part of the forest were mostly a mixture of beech, oak and elm, and their leaves rustled ceaselessly in the morning's breeze. All about, the sounds of birds, insects and small animals could be heard. Other things too, Ginny supposed, but dared not wonder.

Harry stood in the middle of the clearing, his head right back so thathis face pointed towards the sky. With his arms hanging loosely at his sides, the Boy-Who-Lived stayed motionless for several minutes, letting the sounds and smells of the forest wash over him. The earthy smell of damp wood. The sound of a thrush breaking open a snail against a flat stone. Here in the forest, Harry was truly in his element. He could have stayed that way for hours, but Ginny, on the other hand, was giving in to her curiosity, and could wait no longer.

"Adam? Can we talk now?" she asked softly.

"Of course," he replied, coming out of his trance and turning to face her. "Give me a few moments…" Harry trailed off, turning his attention instead to transfiguring a couple of twigs that lay on the ground into soft blankets. "I doubt anyone will overhear us here. Besides, I will hear anyone approach long before they get close enough to hear what we are saying. Please, take a seat," he politely offered.

"How did you…? No wand…but..."

"All in good time," he said slowly and deliberately, at which Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. When the pair was comfortably seated on the blankets, it was Harry who spoke first.

"Tell me about them."

"About who?"

"The fox and the phoenix. You tell me your story, and I'll tell you mine."

"Yours?"

"Yes, mine, which I fear will take longer, so I invite you to go first."

"Well, it was on my fifth birthday. I was standing in front of my mirror, so I could brush my hair when I saw the fox on my chest. Then I saw the phoenix on my arm as well. Living with Fred and George, I naturally assumed this was something they'd done to me during the night while I was asleep - they're really into pranks. Anyway, I did what any five-year-old would have done; I yelled for my mum. Just like me, she assumed it was the twins and hauled them out of bed and gave them an earful. Eventually though, she and Dad realised it couldn't have been them, seeing as though neither of them was able to do anything about it. They took me to the Accidental Spell Damage ward at St. Mungo's, but nobody there could do anything at all.

The two tattoos never seemed to do anything, and didn't affect me in any way, so we just decided to live with them, I suppose. It's not as if they're ugly or anything, is it? I quite like them now though, although no-one outside our family knows anything. Apart from you. So, that's my story. Are you going to tell me how in Merlin's name you knew they were there?"

"If I remember correctly, it was my wolf that detected the presence of the fox and the phoenix. A very keen sense of smell, the wolf."

"What have you done with it, anyway? Didn't it always follow you around back at home?"

"I think, Ginny, it is time for me to show you something." As he finished saying these words, Harry peeled of the black polo-neck top he was wearing. As his torso was revealed, Ginny gasped with amazement. Harry stood and turned slowly, so that Ginny could see each side of him, and thus see all five of Harry's tattoos.

"Wow!" was Ginny's considered response. Whether it was caused by the finesse of the artwork on his body or Harry's muscular physique he didn't question. Instead, he remained standing and continued his explanation, completely unabashed at his state of undress.

"You see the wolf, here on my chest?" Ginny nodded, looking up at him in awe. "Watch." Ginny did as she was commanded, and watched in amazement as the tattoo seemed to bulge and become three dimensional. Suddenly, a black blur burst from Harry's chest and coalesced on the ground beside him. In a fraction of a moment, it had formed into a very real black wolf. The youngest Weasley momentarily froze from the shock causing Harry to drop to her side and gently shake her by the shoulders.

"What happened?" Ginny asked, a little confused.

"You zoned out for a moment."

"Oh." She thought for a moment, trying to remember what had jst happened. "The wolf…it came right out of your chest."

"Yeah, look." Harry pointed at his still bare chest. The wolf tattoo was gone, but sniffling around the edges of the blanket a very real, black wolf was stood. "I tried to slow it down so you could see what was happening, but I guess it made the whole thing look really freaky."

"You could say that," Ginny replied, still a bit shaky. "So, what is it?"

"As far as I know, the wolf is completely real and a totally normal wolf. Apart from the colour, as there's no species of wolf that is black. I can call it out from the tattoo to be real at any time, all of them in fact. Do you want to see?"

"OK," Ginny said nervously, not really sure if she wanted to see or not.

"I'll do it quicker, so it's not so weird…"

In barely a moment, a black falcon was beating its wings and soaring into the sky, the panther was stretching its legs in feeling the weak warmth of the dappled sunlight. The snake was coiled around Harry's arm and the spider was stepping down his body to explore the grass.

Understandably, Ginny was somewhat nervous to now be in the company of a wolf, a panther and a snake, but Harry sensed her anxiety.

"It's OK, Ginny. They are all completely under my control." At this, Harry had the three creatures take up positions in a triangle formation around the two blankets. "They will keep watch for anything approaching."

"Do you think…?" began Ginny.

"Yes. I do," Harry interrupted. "You just have to want them to come out. Will it to happen. They are a part of you, just like your arms or legs. You have complete control over them."

"What does it feel like? Should I stand up? I'm scared, Adam." Ginny fired off questions, apprehension in her voice was evident but there was also a hint of excitement. Harry smiled at her in what he thought was a reassuring way.

"Strange at first, I suppose, but you'll soon get used to it. You'll be fine sitting down. I can only tell you that it doesn't hurt and that it will be weird to start with. I don't know what it'll be like for you, but I experience one sense from each of my animals."

"I don't understand. What do you mean; one sense from each?"

"I can see what the falcon sees, taste what the snake tastes, feel what the spider feels, hear what the panther hears and I can smell what the wolf smells. After a while I learned how to tune in each animal if I wanted to experience what it was experiencing. It won't be the same for you though, as you've only got two animals."

"Should I try it?"

"Might as well. I'd go with the fox first, who knows what'll happen with the phoenix."

"Alright then." Ginny shifted away from Harry and got up onto her knees. She started pulling off her jumper, revealing an expanse of bare stomach when Harry started.

"Whoa!" Ginny, what are you doing?"

"I have something underneath. Besides, you took off your top. I assumed the tattoo has to be visible." She reached under her jumper and pulled down the bright red camisole that was under it, before pulling the outer layer completely off.

"Yes, well," began Harry, bashfully looking away. "It's probably best to start with, until you get used to it."

Ginny smiled at the boy, amused by his awkwardness. After a moment though, she began to concentrate on the task at hand. The more or less entirely visible above the delicately scalloped edge of her camisole, Ginny thought with her entire consciousness about the animal. She had gazed at its every detail for many hours, always wondering where it had come from. Now, as she waited on the brink of discovering its purpose, a question that had puzzled her for nine years, she paused, daring to hope the fox would burst from her chest as Adam's wolf had done.

_Fox._

_Fox._

_Come out, Fox. _

As her mind dared to think those three words, Ginny felt the stirring of the creature. A swirling mass of red, orange and brown burst from her chest and gathered on the ground, quickly forming into a medium sized, female fox.

Harry's wolf and panther picked up their heads and turned to look at the new creature. Bidden by their master, however, they remained at their posts, sentinels watching over the young couple.

"I did it!" squealed Ginny, who had begun to stroke the small animal. Harry got over his embarrassment at seeing Ginny's camisole and watched for a moment at the delight that showed on Ginny's face. Her eyes danced with merriment and her smile filled Harry with a strange feeling of contentment.

"Let it do what it wants for a moment. Don't try to control it," instructed Harry. "Do you feel anything?"

Ginny watched in amazement as the creature, which was particular red for a fox, looked around itself, sniffing the air and instinctively searching for threats. Somehow it knew that Harry's animals were friendly, and it paid them little heed as it scurried around the small clearing.

Harry watched as Ginny concentrated on the fox. Her smile had been replaced by a look of wonder, of amazement.

"Ginny?" Harry prompted.

"Yes! I can smell what she smells, and see through her eyes if I close my own. I can feel the grass beneath my feet and hear all the noises of the forest. This is incredible, overwhelming. How do you cope with this?"

"Bring her back to you now, Ginny. Will her to come to you."

Ginny gave Harry a questioning look, but complied nonetheless. The fox padded silently across the clearing and stood in front of the astounded girl.

"Will her back into you now." Ginny complied, again without protest, and she sat rigidly still as the fox dissolved back into the swirling mass and reappeared as a tattoo above her left breast. "Any chance you are able," Harry continued, "Allow her to come out. The more she is out, the more in tune you will become, and the better you will understand how to experience the fox's senses. And, if I am any indication, you may find your own senses sharpen as well."

"Huh?"

"Maybe I should tell you my story. I can explain about the animals as we go along."

"Can't I try the phoenix first?"

"If you want to. Although, what you'll feel from a phoenix I can only guess."

Harry watched this time as the young girl centred herself and began to focus once again. As she cleared her mind, Ginny thought only of one thing.

_Phoenix._

_Phoenix._

_Come out, Phoenix! _

There was no coalescing mist, or swirling colour that gathered into a form. Instead a sudden burst of red flame appeared to fire straight out of Ginny's left arm. The flame jetted round the startled girl a few times, and as it did so the ball of flame morphed into the shape of a large bird. In front of Ginny, where she knelt on the conjured blanket, stood a flame-red phoenix, its magnificent colours bright in the dappled light of the clearing.

"Whoooaaa!"

"Impressive, Ginny," said Harry.

"I can feel…no. I can sense what she senses. It's like I'm testing myself. As she looks at me, she senses my soul, and sees that I'm honest and good."

"A small part of you is a phoenix. It's not surprising that you're a good person."

At Ginny's mental thought, the incredible bird turned to look at Harry.

"And what does she tell you about me, Ginny?"

"Your soul is pure but is tainted by the darkness. You are hiding. You are not all that you seem."

Ginny was shocked by the thoughts that were flowing into her mind as she linked with the Phoenix. "What does this mean, Adam? I feel that I can trust you implicitly but I no longer feel that I know who you are."

"Perhaps you should pull the phoenix back into yourself again. I can tell you my story and answer all your questions. I think it will take a long time for you to get used to the empathic nature of these wonderful creatures."

Ginny was sad to have to reabsorb the phoenix so soon, but she was eager to hear Harry's tale, and understand who he was and why his soul was tinged with the dark. She focussed herself and willed the beautiful bird back onto her arm. Again, it was not like the fox, but instead the phoenix disappeared in a flash of flame, reappearing as the still and silent tattoo on Ginny's left arm. The young teenager settled herself comfortable on the blanket and looked up at Harry, who was now on his feet casting a privacy ward around the pair.

"Are you ready, Ginny?"

"Yes. I want to know everything."

"Very well." Harry sat back down in front of the pretty girl. His eyes looked into hers for a fraction of a moment, before they glazed over, and Harry cast his mind back to a time he had tried hard to forget.

"When my parents were killed, I was placed with my mother's relatives; my aunt and her husband, and their son. They didn't really want me and are completely averse to anything magical. I was too young at the time to understand why but I later learned that it stems from my aunt being jealous of my mother being a witch. I was treated badly by my relatives, starved, neglected. I was made to sleep in a cupboard, barely fed and never shown any affection. However, on my fifth birthday, everything changed.

Just like you did, Ginny, I woke up with these tattoos. Of course, it drove my aunt and uncle crazy, so much so that they decided to get rid of me; my uncle drove me into London and left me on the side of the road, outside an orphanage, with the instruction not to knock on the door until he'd driven away."

Ginny was enraptured by this boy's sad tale, and sat mesmerised, with tears slowly rolling down her cheeks.

"The lady who ran the orphanage took me in and asked for my name. I just stood there and stared at her. I didn't even know my own name. She decided to call me Adam, Adam Black."

"Do you still not know your real name?" whispered Ginny.

"Oh yes. I found out three years later. At the orphanage I was given clothes of my own and a bedroom. I made a friend. For the first time that I could remember I felt safe and wanted. I went to classes at the orphanage and hung out with Grace, but at nights, when I was supposed to be sleeping, I really came alive.

Completely by accident I had called out the snake and the spider while I was still at my relative's house. What had really freaked me out was that the snake spoke to me. I could talk to it."

"You mean…?"

"Yes, I'm a Parselmouth. The first chance I got, on my first night at the orphanage, I called out all the animals. The wolf and the panther were not quite fully grown, but over the time I was there they reached their full size. Every chance I had, I would let the animals out. The more they were out, the more in tune with their abilities I became. I learnt over time how to switch on and off what they were seeing, or hearing or whichever one it was. But what was amazing, and it took a while before I started to notice, was that my senses were enhancing, too. My eyesight has improved so much that I don't need to wear glasses anymore. I grew strong as well, like the panther, fast and nimble like the spider. As a child I was a lot stronger and faster than the other kids; it's not quite so extreme now but I'm still far stronger and faster than I appear.

This is why you need to have the fox and the phoenix out in the open as much as you can. The more they are out, the more natural it becomes; they are just another part of you and you need to learn how to use them, especially the phoenix. I doubt you'll be able to fly or flash from place to place but it already seems you will be able to use some of the mental abilities.

Anyway, I'm getting off track. One night something that I wished for happened, and the snake told me that I am a wizard, marked by the Gods. I've never understood what that meant, but from then on I explored what I could do. Summoning, levitating, transfiguring. I just had to use my will and these things happened. After a while, I began to question what magic felt like, and I just lay there on my bed thinking about it. I began to understand. The magic is a part of me. I could feel it in every part of me, my hands, my feet, in my bones and in my heart. As I concentrated on the magic, I used my will to move it around inside me, finally forcing some out through my finger tips into my hands."

"Can you show me?"

Harry held his hands in front of himself, making them into a cup shape. Within a second, he was holding a swirling, writhing ball of black flames.

"Wow!"

"When I first did this, the flames were blue, but over time they have darkened to black. I guess this has happened due to my appearance, and affinity with the shadows."

"That's amazing, Adam. Is that really raw magic? It's so alluring."

"Yes, Ginny, it is raw magic. What I learned to do with it, is this…" Harry closed his hands over the pulsing, living sphere. A moment later, as he pulled them apart, a single stem cut rose, with a perfect red bloom appeared, which Harry offered to the girl opposite him.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

"Then it suits you well," responded Harry.

Ginny's eyes snapped up from looking down at the scarlet flower, and locked on to Harry's. Seeing nothing but sincerity, Ginny blushed slightly before smiling back at him. After a moment in which the two young people seem to lose themselves in each other's eyes, Harry broke away.

"Basically, I spent three whole years practising anything I could think of that magic might be able to do and growing used to the animals and the new abilities they were giving me. On my eighth birthday, two men came to the orphanage, claiming to be friends of my parents. This was the day that I learned who I really am."

Harry paused for a moment, as his thoughts drifted back to that day, the day he found out about his parents, who they had been, and what had really happened to them. Ginny's impatient voice brought him out of the daydream.

"And? Who are you?"

"Harry Potter."


	6. In which Harry and Ginny talk II

Here's another chapter for you, I hope you like it. Mega hugs to SNB.

Chapter 6: In which Harry and Ginny talk II

"And? Who are you?"

"Harry Potter."

On hearing Harry's words, Ginny's expectant face immediately switched to one of utter confusion. As she warred internally with the conflict between her prior knowledge and her instinct that this boy was telling the truth, Harry watched her. After an awkward silence that stretched for over a minute, Harry spoke again.

"Ginny?"

"I'm sorry. Did you really just say that you are Harry Potter?"

"Yes."

"I thought he was dead."

"In some ways, I am."

"I don't understand. I mean, my parents told me stories when I was little about this amazing boy who defeated You-Know-Who, but then the papers reported that he had been killed in an explosion. And here you are, claiming to be that same person, even though you don't have the scar that he's famous for. All logic tells me that you can't be Harry Potter, but my instinct…my heart knows it to be true."

"Why don't you bring out your phoenix again? Her presence and judgement of me might help to persuade the logical you."

Ginny nodded at Harry's suggestion, and concentrated on the magnificent bird. In barely a moment, a flash of fire signified the presence of the king of all birds.

"Make the phoenix look at me. Ask her to judge me once more."

Ginny obeyed and willed the phoenixto test the validity of the black-haired boy's claim. It only confirmed what she knew in her heart to be true. Sat before her was the subject of all her wildest childhood dreams. Reassured by his honesty, Ginny backtracked to something he had said earlier.

"What did you mean when you said, 'In some ways, I am'?"

"As far as I'm concerned, the famous Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Defeater-of-the-Dark-Lordis dead. Killed by an old man's error of judgement. Killed by an abusive family. I am Adam Black, a boy who happened to once be called by another name. As Adam Black I am inconspicuous. No-one expects me be a Gryffindor, or be great at Quidditch like my father was. No, as Adam Black I can stay in the shadows, where I am happy, out of the spotlight, away from the burden of expectation. And I do have the scar; it's just well hidden under a permanent charm."

This had all come as a massive shock to the youngest Weasley, whose past did, as she said, include a short-lived infatuation with the Boy-Who-Lived. "Who else knows?" she asked quietly.

"The headmaster, my two guardians and now you. It is essential that you keep this to yourself. My guardians were friends of my parents, and as I was just getting to in my story, it was them who told me who I really am. Eventually, it became necessary for me to come to Hogwarts, for my own safety, so we had to tell Dumbledore. I trust you, Ginny. Whether it's the phoenix in you, or the fact that you, too, have these strange tattoos. It's like we're kindred spirits or something. I can't help but trust you; you will keep my secrets, won't you?"

"Harry...Adam…damn. I don't know what to call you now."

"Adam, please. Always Adam."

"OK, Adam. I spent nearly a decade wondering about these two tattoos that I have. What are they? Where did they come from? Is it only me? Finding someone else with them, too, is just incredible, but to find someone who understands what they are and can teach me how to use them…it's more than I ever imagined. We do have a bond. We both have something no-one else does, as far as we know. There is no-one who could possibly understand what it feels like to have a part of youdetach itself and fly away, and yet still be a part of you. The first time we met, something was created between us, a bond, an understanding. Finding you, being found by you, it's made a part of my life make sense. You've filled the empty space that's been inside me since I was five years old. I'll never do anything to jeopardize the completeness that you've given me. I swear on my magic, I'll never tell a soul."

Harry listened attentively to Ginny's heartfelt words. In the short space of a few hours, he had let someone further into his life than anyone had ever been allowed before. It went against his usual sense of guardedness and yet it seemed so natural, so instinctive.

"Thank you, Ginny," he whispered.

"Thank you, Adam," she returned.

The pair exchanged a hug, brief yet meaningful. It was Ginny who steered the conversation back to where it had been left off.

"So, what happened when these two men came to get you?"

Harry proceeded to tell Ginny how Mrs. Rutherford had taken him from his class and introduced him totwo men who claimed to have been friends of his parents. He explained how he seemed to be able to tell their honesty by looking them in the eye, learning later that he had a modicum of innate _Legilimency_ at his disposal. After saying goodbye to Grace, his first ever friend, he left with the men, and lived the next seven years in the supposed haunted cabin in the forest near Ginny's home.

Harry described his life living with the two men, how they had taught him everything they could about magic, life and the Wizarding World. He told of his time wandering the forest, how he met Luna and how he came to be nearby when Ginny had fallen and hurt her ankle. Soon enough, Ginny asked who the two men were.

"One of them is our new History professor, Remus Lupin."

"Really? You're so lucky having one of your guardians as your teacher."

"You think so? He'll just be tougher on me so it doesn't look like I'm his favourite. Anyway, that's something else that only the Headmaster knows."

"Oh, OK. Who's your other guardian then?"

"You remember that incident in the summer, with Ron's rat?"

"Of course. The rat turned out to be a guy called Peter Pettigrew, who had framed Sirius Black for murder, and who was the real Secret Keeper for the Pot…"

Ginny trailed off when she realised how casually she was speaking about Harry's parents.

"Yes. He betrayed my parents to Voldemort."

Ginny cringed as Harry said the Dark Lord's name. "So? Who is it?"

"Sirius Black. He's my Godfather."

"Bloody hell, Adam. You don't do things by halves do you?"

"I guess not, Ginny. I guess not."

The pair continued to talk about their lives, neither one noticing lunch time at the castle come and go as they were too engrossed in learning about each other to care. At about three in the afternoon, Harry realised that the late summer sun was now hidden by a layer of grey clouds, and the temperature in the forest clearing was becomingdecidedly cool.

"I'm getting cold, Ginny. Do you want to go back to the castle?"

"We can't!" she responded quickly. "I mean, you were going to explain how you do all your magic without a wand."

"That's true. Well, if we're staying for a while, I need to warm up a bit."

"We could make a camp fire. For some reason, I'm pretty good at fire spells."

"OK, but we can't just light it on the grass, it'll scorch the ground."

"Can't you conjure a fireplace, or something?"

"I guess…." Harry concentrated for a few moments, gathering a ball of swirling blackness in his hands. When the ball had grown to the desired size, Harry set it on the grass, a few metres from the blankets on which the pair were still sitting. The raw magic morphed into a slab of stone, a few inches thick and about three feet across. "I've done my bit…"

Harry sat back down on the blanket and looked expectantly at Ginny. "Any particular colour?" she enquired.

"You do colours?"

"Yes. Whatever you want."

"In that case, how about a nice Slytherin green?"

"Ha ha! Very funny, get the Gryffindor to do the enemy's colours." Harry didn't respond to this taunt, but merely waited, staring at Ginny.

"Oh very well," she sighed, before drawing her wand and sending a jet of green flame towards the stone slab. As the jet hit the centre of the stone, Ginny kept it going until enough fire had pooled, so that it would sustain itself. "I reckon that'll be good for a few hours."

Harry could feel the warmth coming from the dancing and flickering green flames. As the pair both shuffled closer to the fire and warmed their hands, they were not aware of the two pairs of eyes that were watching them from a distance of about one hundred metres. Eyes whose owners were hidden even from the senses of Harry's watching animals.

"So," said Ginny a few minutes later. "Are you going to show me?"

"We can start, but this will probably take a long time. You do realise that, don't you? And I mean weeks, not hours."

"Oh. I still want to learn though."

"Good. It just means we'll have to have more secret rendezvous," said a smirking Harry.

"That's fine by me," Ginny replied, with a slight blush.

The pair stopped and stared goofily at each other for a moment, before Harry took control of him self, and tried to remember what he had said to Remus when he had tried to teach him the principles of wandless magic.

"The first step is feeling your magic. It's easier if you lie down for this." As Ginny complied, Harry continued his instruction. "Are you completely comfortable? Close your eyes. For the moment, just listen to my voice and do everything I tell you…"

The next couple of hours passed by in extreme peace and quiet, as Harry guided Ginny into a state of utter relaxation. Eventually, she began to feel a faint tingling that meant she was beginning to feel her own magic, just as Harry had done, some many years before.

Throughout the afternoon, Ginny's conjured fire burned consistently, needing no fuel to sustain it. The conjured stone withstood the heat of the flames, and together themakeshift hearth kept the pair of young people warm during their endeavours. Finally, as the sun dipped below the trees, Harry and Ginny succumbed to hunger and headed back towards the hustle and bustle of the castle.

"What have you been doing all day, Black?" The annoying voice of Draco Malfoy assaulted Harry's ears as he tried to cross the Slytherin common room, and head to dormitories. He stopped and turned towards the blonde, who was sitting in _his_ seat, adjacent to the fireplace. Pansy Parkinson was draped over one of the arms of the easy chair, trying to scowl at Harry for distracting Draco from her ministrations.

"Why, I didn't know you were so concerned, Smallboy!"

"My. Name. Is. MALFOY!" the boy fumed.

"Whatever. Anyway, you don't want to know."

"If I didn't want to know, I wouldn't have asked, Black. Where have you been?"

Harry stalked towards Malfoy, who tried to stand up, but due to the simpering presence of Parkinson, the human fawn, hewas barely out of the chair by the time the black-haired boy reached him.

"I've been busy. Minding my own damn business." Harry's voice was cold, devoid of the usual sarcastic tone he had reserved for the Malfoy twerp. Resuming his march towards the dormitories, Harry called back over his shoulder. "See you at dinner, Smallboy."

"IT'S MALFOY!" screamed out Draco, causing many fellow Slytherins to snort or snigger.

Meanwhile, Ginny Weasley had received her own welcoming committee on her return to the Gryffindor common room, in the shape of her best friend, Hermione Granger who fixed her with a questioning gaze.

"Have you been out with him, all day?"

"Umm…yeah."

"And?" 

"And what?"

"What have you been doing? I'm certain Professor Dumbledore noticed that you were missing at lunch."

"We talked."

"Talked? For over six hours?"

"Yes."

"But what could you possibly have…"

"Oh look! Neville's beating Ron," interrupted Ginny as she suddenly strode purposefully across the common room. Hermione trailed after her from near the portrait hole to the sofas by the fire, where Ginny's brother, Ron was in the middle of a game of chess with his dorm-mate, Neville Longbottom.

"Hey, sis!" Ron called. "How was your day with Black?"

"Err…fine."

"Good."

"Is that it?"

"Huh?"

"I've just spent the whole day with a Slytherin, and all you can say is 'Good'?"

"What did you expect? A rant about how Gryffindors are good and Slytherins are evil?"

"Well…yes."

"Life's not like that, Ginny. Look, the last time I tried to protect you from Black, I ended up with a broken nose for my trouble, and I had to apologise to him, at which point he completely humbled me by agreeing that protecting your family was anoble cause. This just after he's healed your ankle and carried you for Merlin knows how far through a forest. It's hardly the actions of an evil Death Eater wannabe, is it? Besides, since the Scabbers incident in thesummer, I've realised that life isn't so black and white. Slytherins don't all grow up to be Death Eaters, and Gryffindors don't all become heroes. I'll be seventeen in a little over a year – it's time to start thinking like an adult, if I'm going to be one soon."

"Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

"Ha ha. Listen, Gin. You're a good judge of character. If you trust Black, then that's good enough for me. But if he ever hurts you…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you'll confront him and get your nose broken again!"

"Exactly," replied Ron, with a smile.

Ginny smiled back at her brother, before giving him a quick hug and disappearing up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Hermione had silently watched the entire exchange between the siblings, and was pleasantly surprised with the attitude that the previously hot-headed boy had shown. As his attentions turned once again to the chessboard, Hermione Granger sat and observed him, lost in thought.

The days and weeks passed at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Other engagements permitting, Harry and Ginny managed to meet every Saturday, during which they would disappear into the Forbidden Forest so that Ginny could continue learning Harry's way of using magic and become more familiar with the fox and the phoenix. As the weeks went by, Ginny's senses began to sharpen a little, thanks to the fox. From the phoenix, Ginny's empathic side began to develop; honesty and deceit, lies and truths and good and evil, soon became traits she could recognise in a person.

Wandless magic progressed slowly for Ginny. It was hard to overcome years of conditioning and completely change one's approach to magic use. By the middle of October, she was successfully summoning her magic into her hands. Unlike Harry's compact black sphere of swirling energy, Ginny's magic was more free. It appeared as a handful of orange-red flames, dancing and flickering above her palms.

Within the school, Harry's repeated use of the name Smallboy instead of Malfoy was starting to catch on. Gradually, other members of theSlytherin house had started to use the derogatory name when the blonde boy was not around. Over time, habits formed and the name stuck within the green and silver confines of the Common Room. Eventually, the inevitable happened. During an argument with the young wizard in question, Pansy Parkinson vindictively shouted out the nickname for the entire Great Hall to hear, one evening during dinner. Needless to say, use of the name spread like wildfire throughout the student population, and every time Harry heard the word 'Smallboy' mentioned, he allowed himself to smile. On those rare occasions when Draco had been present and overheard the use of his nickname and had shouted back 'It's MALFOY!' in response, Harry found it hard not to double over with laughter, and he delighted in writing every detail in his letters to Sirius.

Harrymanaged to spend time with Grace and Luna, by way of a study group that quickly formed. Initially, it began with Harry and Ginny choosing to study together in the library during the evenings, but it quickly expanded to include both the Hufflepuff and the Ravenclaw. The headmaster was particularly pleased when Madam Pince reported to him about the four students from different houses studying together on a regular basis. It was not long before Hermione joined the group. Her desire to top each and every class drove her need to study alongside the enigmatic boy who would sometimes best her.

The final member of the study group joined during October. After dinner one evening, asHarry was heading towards the Slytherin dungeon to collect his books, Ron Weasley accosted him in the Entrance Hall.

"Black? Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Sure," Harry replied, before leading the taller boy out of the main doors and out into the cool autumn evening. "Fire away, Weasley."

"Look. I know that you had something to do with my rat being an Animagus. The moment you saw it you sent me into the house with Ginny so you could talk to my father. Before I know it, he's giving me a book on Animagi and teaching me the revealing spell."

"And? What's your point?"

"I don't know why, but you let me and my family take all the credit for capturing Pettigrew. I wanted to thank you."

"Listen. I may have given your father a few suggestions about a course of action, but as far as I can tell, it was you and himwho carried it all off. You deserve your praise; you set in motion things that have affected me far more than you know, for which I thank you greatly."

Ron's mouth twitched to a brief smile, before quickly fading to make room for his solemn expression. "You know, you really don't act like a Slytherin."

"I'll take that as a compliment, shall I?"

"I mean…you're humble, modest. Ginny seems to really like you."

"Ah yes, your sister. I expected to be talking to you about her before now."

"She trusts you, and I trust her. If she says you're OK, then you probably are. There's certainly no evidence suggesting you're anything other than a decent bloke."

"Apart from being a Slytherin!"

"I'm trying to ignore that."

"What do you want, Weasley?"

"I want to join your little group."

"Why?"

"Honestly?"

"If you lie I'll know it." For the first time, Harry looked right into Ron's eyes, his green eyes catching in the moonlight. After a few seconds, Ron looked away.

"I want to see how you and Ginny are together. I want to keep an eye on you."

"Fair enough. I told you once before, wanting to protect your family is nothing to be ashamed of. Anything else?"

"Yeah. You see, I like Hermione. Since she started studying with you I don't see her so much. If I study with you, I'll get to spend more time with her, and I might get smarter, and she might like me more because of it."

"Ron?" For the first time, Harry used addressed Ron using his given name, surprising the other boy. "You're a good guy. I don't mind at all if you study with us. Want to start tonight?"

"Sure. Thanks, Black." The pair headed back into the castle. As they split off towards their respective Common Rooms, Harry called out.

"Call me Adam."

Before Ron could respond, Harry had disappeared into the shadowy corridor leading to the Slytherin domain. Ron plodded slowly towards the Fat Lady, one single thought occupying his mind.

_"I just made friends with a Slytherin."_

The final nail into the coffin containing Draco Malfoy's reputation came duringa Transfiguration lesson, towards the end of October. Harry had arrived early and taken a place near the back of the class. For this lesson, the Slytherins were paired with the Gryffindors, which only served to increase the Death Eater in-training's humiliation further. As the mix of red and green aligned students filed into the classroom, it was Ron Weasley who took a seat beside Harry, to the surprise of the majority of those already assembled. Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were the last to arrive, as usual, but today, he found his new nemesis sitting in his usual place.

"You're in my place, Black," hissed the blonde.

"Shove off, Smallboy," called Ron, unable to hold in his temperament where Malfoy was concerned. Having become a member of Harry's study circle meant he was accustomed to using the less than complimentary nickname.

"It's Malfoy, Weasel! Though I suppose your family is too poor to afford basic reading and writing lessons, isn't it? Now move. I always sit here."

"Really, Smallboy," Harry began, rounding on him. "You're 'it's my seat' whine really makes you sound like the small boy that you are. Now be a good lad and toddle off somewhere else."

Ron tried in vainto suppress a snort of amusement at the overly patronising tone that Harry used on Malfoy. In fact, most of the class were watching this exchange; the Gryffindors with delight and the Slytherins, apart from Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle, with interest. Harry's tone was one step too far for Draco and he lazily pulled out his wand.

"That's the last time, Black. Nobody speaks to a Malfoy like that." Just as the affronted Malfoy heir began to utter an incantation, Harry's right arm snapped out before anyone could react and snatched the wand out of theother boy's grasp. In one fluid motion, Harry tossed the wand over his shoulder, and, as luck would have it, the twelve-inch long wooden stick sailed straight out of anopen window and fell four stories to the grass below. Draco had just made it to the window to try andlocate his wand when Professor McGonagall marched into the classroom, her stern countenance observed by everyone except the perpetually obnoxious Slytherin.

"Take your seat, Mr. Malfoy," called the highland tone of the austere professor.

"Professor McGonagall, Black threw…"

"Your seat."

"But my wand…"

"TAKE YOUR SEAT, MR. SMALLBOY!" yelled McGonagall, incensed that this boy defied her for a second time.

The entire class looked at their teacher in surprise, although in the case of one particular black-haired student, the shock quickly turned to glee, albeit hidden behind a mask of Slytherin impassiveness.

To try and make amends for her slip, Professor McGonagall retrieved Malfoy's wand using a Summoning Charm, before commencing her lesson as if nothing unusual had occurred. Needless to say, by lunchtime it was all over the school that even the teachers were now referring to the once-feared Slytherin Prince as Draco Smallboy.

A few days after the now infamous McGonagall-Smallboy incident, Harry was returning to the Slytherin Common Room a few minutes before curfew, when he sensed his Head of House around the next corner.

"Good evening, Professor Snape," Harry called as he approached. The acerbic teacher stepped out from his hiding spot – a place he waited infor late Slytherins to arrive so he could berate them – and masked his annoyance at being discovered with a question, spoken in his usual acidic tone.

"Out a little late tonight, aren't we, Mr. Black?"

"Have I breached a rule, Professor?" Harry asked in reply, knowing full well that he hadn't. "I understood curfew to be at ten o'clock."

"Where have you been, Black? Not consorting with Gryffindors I hope?"

"In a manner of speaking, sir."

"Explain yourself."

"I've been assisting Professor Lupin, sir."

"Assisting Professor Lupin? I do hope that isn't a euphemism for serving detention."

"Of course not, sir. If I were to do something that warranted a detention, I would certainly not be stupid enough as to be caught. I am not a Gryffindor." The Potions Master's steely façade vaguely twitched at Harry's remark. Deciding to enhance his reputation with his Head of House a little further, Harry continued, "Actually, sir, I've been helping Professor Lupin brew the Wolfsbane potion."

Even the veteran spy could not hide his surprise at hearing one of his students claim to be brewing the most difficult of potions. All too soon, however, Snape's emotionless mask was replaced.

"How does a new student to the school, and a Slytherin at that, come to be in the position of assisting an ex-Gryffindor Werewolf professor?"

Harry thought quickly. "I read a lot, Sir. I recognised certain signs about Professor Lupin and confronted him with it, with the intention of using his knowledge that I knew his secret to my advantage." The Slytherin head of house nodded appreciatively.

"And what exactly does your assistance entail?"

"Currently I am preparing the ingredients. We will begin the actual brewing process in a few days. The prepared ingredients are under a stasis preservation charm, apart from the crushed cocoa beans. They need to dry out a little."

"The Wolfsbane ingredients do not include cocoa beans, Black. Have you been lying to me this whole time?"

"Of course not, Professor. The cocoa beans, being inherently unmagical, do not react with the magical ingredients. Thus allowing us to improve the flavour of the potion, without affecting its potency. After some experimentation, we managed to make the potion much more palatable, by adding a faint chocolate taste."

"Well, Black. As fascinating as this subject is, it is now approaching curfew. I will be corroborating your story with Lupin. I do trust he is rewarding your assistance with house points?"

"Yes, sir. Goodnight, sir."

With Halloween falling on Tuesday, the weekend prior was of course allocated as a Hogsmeade weekend, allowing the student population to stock up on seasonal sweets, joke items and for Ravenclaws, school supplies. Harry and Ginny maintained their usual schedule, however, and chose to spend the Saturday in the clearing in the Forbidden Forest. Under Harry's continued guidance and encouragement, Ginny was improving her wandless magic skills, although she remained able to gather a handful of magic, as yet she could only use it to create fire of any colour.

Whilst Ginny practised, Harry concentrated on something his instinct told him he should be able to achieve – conjuring shadow. For some reason, Harry felt that shadow could be used to his advantage. After a few hours of experimentation, Harry was able to use his raw magic to create shaped blocks of shadow so dense and dark that they could not be seen through. Harry's magical shadows also seemed to work like a strange shield, in that anything passing into the shadow was absorbed. Promising himself he would work on this puzzling new skill again, Harry turned his attention to his beautiful companion, who was now simply sprawled on the ground grooming her phoenix.

"Gin, do you have anything I can write on?"

"Um…probably," she began, whilst rummaging through her school bag. "What do you want to write?"

"I want to figure out some runes, but I can't remember them all in my head."

"Is it to do with this black stuff you've been conjuring?"

"Yeah. And it's shadow."

"Shadow?"

"Yeah. I had this nagging feeling when I woke up this morning that I should be able to use shadows to do something magical. I've just been trying a few things, but I need to make some notes on the runes that I've been using."

"I've only got a weird old notebook."

"That'll do."

"You'll have to get it though. I'm not touching it."

"Why on earth not?"

"It's evil."

"How can a notebook be evil?" Harry reached into Ginny's bag and pulled out a black leather bound notebook. The letters TMR were stamped on the front in faded gold leaf. Harry flicked through the pages, but it had never been written in, which was strange, given the battered condition of the thing.

"I found it in amongst my stuff just before I started my first year, but I never wrote anything in it because I always had this funny feeling about it. I've tried throwing it away, or leaving it at the Burrow, but it always ends up in my school bag."

"OK, now that is odd," Harry commented.

"Since the start of the year, and, you know, the phoenix and stuff, I just know that there's something evil about it. It's almost as if it's alive in some way. Damn, I must sound crazy, talking about a book that's alive and evil."

"Ginny, if there's one thing I know, it's that if a phoenix says something is evil, then it's evil. With what you said about it suddenly appearing and not being able to leave it behind, it makes it look very dodgy.I think we should definitely destroy it."

"But how?"

"Well, what's the thing you're best at?"

"Quidditch?"

"No. Fire. But think about it, the fire you create is the pure fire of a phoenix. It's got to be worth a try."

"I suppose you're right. Toss it over there…"

"NO! I mean. Hold on. We can't burn it on the grass, that'll damage the ground…"

Hidden in the same place as before, two pairs of eyes watched the teenagers as they prepared to destroy the strange old black book. Eyes that had watched Harry and Ginny each and every time they had ventured into the clearing and spent time learning about each other and themselves. They watched as the black-haired boy attracted and cared for theinjured animals and birds that seemed drawn into the clearing despite the perpetual presence of Harry's predatory protectors, the panther, the wolf and the snake. The eyes watched in amazement as the flame-haired girl commanded a phoenix, the epitome of all that is good, as if it were an extension of her self.

"Surely we have seen enough?"

"Would you raise the Council with what we have witnessed so far?"

"Even when the sun falls below the trees, and long shadows cover the girl like a grey blanket, she still glows like a burning flame in the darkest night. And in the brightest of days, the boy all but disappears when the shadow of a tree crosses his path. Yes, I have seen enough to summon the Elders."

"Do as you wish. These children fascinate me. I will watch them further."

"Very well, Firenze. I will begin the process. On the eve of the Winter Solstice, we shall present our observations to the Council of Elders."

"Travel safe, Magorian."

Whilst the centaurs were busy discussing the humans they had been observing for the past two months, Harry had created a disc of shadow, about two feet across. From about six feet away, he levitated the enigmatic diary and held it in place above the disc. Ginny, began to summon her raw, flaming magic into her hands.

"Well then, Adam. Here goes nothing!"

Concentrating on generating as much heat as she could muster, a jet of orange flames shot out ofher fingers and engulfed the accursed book. At first, it seemed to absorb the fire, but slowly and steadily, as Ginny focused her mind on the purity of the phoenix, on the cleansing power of its flame, the black leather cover began to burn. As the pages inside started to blacken and curl, a thick grey smoke poured skywards from the fire. Within it, a twisted, distorted face seemed to appear in the billowing plume. The silent face screamed in apparent agony before dissipating barely a second later. Within a few moments, all that remained under Harry's levitation were ashes, which he quickly allowed to fall into the shadow disc. Dispelling the disc, there was not a trace of the evil book left, although, many miles away, a man dressed in black robes, with strange red eyes shivered for a moment before returning to the ancient tome he was reading.

As Harry dispelled the shadow, Ginny collapsed down onto the transfigured blanket. Seeing his companion was distressed, Harry immediately rushed to her side.

"Are you OK?"

"I will be. Whatever that was, it fought me. The evil in that book, it felt like a piece of someone's soul, and it was fighting back at me, screaming in pain."

"Really? That's odd. I might have to talk to Remus about that. Let's have some chocolate. It'll make you feel better." Harry took a bar of Honeydukes' finest from the picnic they had brought with them. Thanks to her twin brothers, Ginny had been introduced to the Hogwarts kitchens and the ever-so obliging House Elves who worked there. It seemed the helpful little elves kept a stock of treats for their favourite students.

Ginny's phoenix appeared in a burst of flame beside the two teens, but Ginny wasn't alert enough to realise that she hadn't consciously summoned it. The firebird crooned a calming song over the troubled girl. After a few minutes, the combination of chocolate and song had soothed Ginny out of her worries.

"Thank you for helping me do that, Adam," Ginny said quietly.

Harry gently took hold of Ginny's hands, as they sat face to face. "Ginny, I'll always be around to help you with stuff. You know that. I promise I'll always be by your side when you need me. I'll always be in your heart and in your mind. We are kindred, brought together by a common cause. We will face our fears together and battle our demons together. This is my promise."

"Did you see that?"

"See what?"

Ginny looked excited as she looked down at their entwined hands. "Our hands. While you were talking our hands started glowing."

"They did? I was too busy staring into your eyes to notice."

"Yup. There was a definite golden glow."

"Huh. I guess my sentimental rambling had more of animpact than I thought."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, all I meant to do was make a solemn promise, but it seems I unwittingly entered us into some kind of magical bond."

"A bond?"

"Yeah. Have you ever been to a wizarding wedding?" Ginny shook her head.

"No, me neither, but I've read about it. When the couple make their promises, a magical bond is formed between them; the greater the bond, the bigger the glow. Since ours was a small one, I guess our bond isn't as big as a wedding bond, or anything like that, but after everything I said we're now bound to each other. I hope you're not mad at me. I can'tbelieve I was so careless."

Ginny looked deep into Harry's eyes. "Adam, of course I'm not mad. You're the one person I trust more than anyone else in the world. Why would I be mad at you? Besides, it's not like we don't like each other, right?"

Returning her gaze, Harry saw hope in the eyes of the beauty in front of him, while he himself felt his stomach leap at her words.

"Right," he whispered in reply.

The pair made a quiet and thoughtful return to the castle, carefully slotting into the trickle of students making their way back after spending their parents' money in the shops of Hogsmeade.


	7. In which things go awry in Hogsmeade

Well folks, here's the seventh chapter. It's the longest of the entire story, and has a bit more action in it. I hope you enjoy reading, please let me know. A million hugs to SNB.

Chapter 7: In which things go awry in Hogsmeade

With plenty of time to kill before dinner, Harry returned to the Slytherin Common Room and immediately headed towards the suite of seats by the fireplace. Malfoy was in residence, holding court with several of the more impressionable Slytherin females. Pansy Parkinson was sitting on the arm of Draco's chair, as usual. The seat opposite Draco was free and Harry sat down, quite unconcerned that Draco had stopped his insipid drawling and the girls had ceased simpering. All eyes, in fact, had turned to the black-haired boy.

"Something we can help you with, Black?" Draco asked coldly.

"I doubt it. Don't mind me."

"Actually, Black, I've been meaning to ask you something." Draco was trying hard to sound confident in front of the person who continually managed to outsmart him. "Where do you stand on the blood issue?" Draco smirked at those around him. Black was notoriously tight-lipped about his own personal opinions and loyalties. By asking him outright, Draco would either find an ally in the pureblood cause, or uncover a Mudblood sympathiser, who would quickly be shunned by the Slytherin fraternity.

"I wondered how long it would take before someone asked me this."

"And?" demanded Draco. "What's your position?"

The crowd of witnesses to this conversation had surreptitiously grown, as word had spread like wildfire aboutwhat Malfoy had asked the enigmatic Black.

"Blood is extremely important," Harry began, butDraco quickly interrupted him.

"And why is that?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Yes, Black, to some of us it is. But for the benefit of those here who are not completely convinced, why don't you spell it out for them?" Draco's increasing confidence that this situation was going exactly as planneddid not prepare him for what his nemesis said next.

"Blood is important because it carries oxygen from the lungs around the body. If we didn't have blood, we would die." The assembled crowd reacted with a mixture of gasps, chuckles and stunned silence. Some of them whispered dubiously amongst each other, and Harry was sure he heard some one say, "Really?"

It took a moment for Draco's brain to comprehend what had just been said. There was no statement of support for blood purity and no opposition to it either – just something weird about oxygen and lungs. After a few seconds, Draco was able to respond.

"WHAT?"

"Really, it's basic human physiology…"

"ARGH!" cried Draco in frustration. "No, Black. Blood purity. What do you think about blood purity?"

"Why didn't you say that in the first place?" Harry cast a sideways glance and caught a glimpse of Blaise Zabini, who was trying heroically to restrain his mirth. "To be honest, I couldn't care less."

Harry's unconcerned remark clearly infuriated the Pureblood Prince, and his hand seemed to be reaching inside his pocket."I despise you, Black. You're an annoying, little…"

Moving faster than any of the onlookers believed was possible, Harryleapt out of his seat, and had his wand pointed at the blonde boy's neck before he could utter another word.

"I suggest," hissed Harry, his voicebarely louder than a whisper. "That you keep your opinions to yourself, and stay out of my way. OK?"

Malfoy wisely decided to nothing except nod his head slightly.

A broad grin was painted across Ginny's face as she made her way back down the staircase leading from her dormitory. Amazingly, she had managed to enter the Gryffindor Common Room and make it upstairs without being accosted by any of her friends or brothers. The smile on her face was eye-catching, however, and it was barely a moment before Hermione's sharp eyes noticed her.

"Ginny!" the older girl called from her position near the fireplace. Ginny wandered across to her and sat down. Neville and Ron sitting down on the rug before the fire, with a game of Exploding Snap between them.

"So what's got you looking so happy?" Hermione asked.

"Two things, actually."

"Which are?"

"Well, first of all, I have a date tomorrow, with Adam."

"Haven't you been dating Adam for weeks?" piped up Ron, who was currently sporting a slightly singed eyebrow."

"No. Tomorrow will be our first." 

"So what have you been doing every Saturday since the start of term?" he asked, trying very hard to keep his tone casual, rather than accusatory.

"Talking mostly, and practicing spells. Adam's been a really big help." Ginny had been waiting weeks for this question to be asked by one of her close friends, and she had her answer ready. It wasn't the entire truth, but it wasn't a lie either, for she wasn't prepared to lie outright to the people she cared about.

"So what's the other reason you're so chipper?" Hermione asked, bringing the conversation back to the previous topic.

"Adam said that he liked me," Ginnysquealed, bouncing in her seat, before making a little squeal and bouncing in her seat.

"Really?" responded Hermione. "That's great!" The bushy-haired girl was grinning, too, now. "He's so clever. You're so lucky."

"I don't get it," Ron stated from his position on the floor. "If he didn't like you, he wouldn't be spending all this time with you, would he? Why the big fuss? It's not like he proposed to you or anything."

"Ronald Weasley, you have the emotional range of a boiled potato," admonished Hermione.

"Ron, mate, let me explain," said Neville calmly. Three pairs of eyes turned to the usually quiet boy in surprise. "You like mashed potatoes, right?"

"Yeah. I like mashed potatoes. So what?" 

"And you like Hermione, don't you?"

"I hardly see what that's got to do with…"

"Just answer the question, Ron."

The red-haired boy looked up brieflyat the girl sitting above him on the sofa. "Alright. Yes, I like Hermione."

Hermione, who was also now grinning like a Cheshire cat, said nothing, and waited for Neville to finish his explanation.

"So, Ron. You like mashed potatoes and Hermione just the same, do you?"

"Well, no, of course not." 

"So, you like mashed potatoes, but you _like _Hermione."

"Right."

"So now do you understand?"

"Err…"

Harry had eaten his dinner while Naomi Crabbe filled him in on the latest school gossip. Most of what she had to say was of little interest to him, but he was pleased to hear the girl mention that Professor Lupin was very popular with the First Years.

Harry's circle of friends did not study together on Saturdays, so he was intending on heading back to his dormitory to do some reading. As he made his way across the Entrance Hall, Ron Weasley approached him, wanting to talk. After finding an empty classroom, Ron started the conversation.

"I hear you and Ginny are going on a date tomorrow."

"Well, I wouldn't call it a date. We're onlygoing to Hogsmeade together…"

"Ginny's under the impression that it's your first date. She came down the stairs earlier looking like the Seeker whocaught the snitch."

"Oh."

"Maybe her excitement also has something to do with you telling her that you like her."

"Of course I like her. I wouldn't hang out with her practically everyday if I didn't like her."

"Yeah, but Ginny thinks that you _like_ her."

Harry, who was brilliant when it came to magic and spells, simply had no idea what to make of the way girls' minds worked. He frowned at Ron. "You're going to have to explain what on Earth you're going on about."

"OK. I like mashed potatoes, right?"

"Err… if you say so."

"But I _like_ Hermione. Do you see the difference?"

"Yes, Ron, I think I do. Are you saying that when I told Ginny that I liked her, or words to that effect, she thinks I meant _like_ rather than just like."

"So? Do you _like_ her?" Ron prompted him. "I'm not going to make the mistake of going all big brother on you, but just remember, there are six of us."

"Thanks for the reminder, Ron. But to answer your question – I don't know. I've no experience of this sort of thing."

"Well then, I suggest you figure itout before morning. Ginny's pretty excited, you know."

As Harry's mind started to deliberate over the slightly strange but informative discussion, Ron slipped quietly out of the quiet classroom, leaving the other boy alone with his thoughts. Harry sensed Ron's absence a few moments later, and he, too, left the room and decided to retire to the comfort of his bed, but he didn't get any reading done. After several hours of silentintrospection, Harry came to a realisation; he really did _like_ Ginny Weasley, and from the sound of things, maybe she _liked_ him, too.

Harry and Ginny met in the Entrance Hall after breakfast the next morning. The pair strolled casually along the cinder path that led out of Hogwarts' grounds and towards the quaint wizarding village of Hogsmeade. Most of the students usually visited the village on Saturdays, so a few of them were scattered around the village today, which gave Ginny and Harry enough privacy to talk freely as they walked.

"I had an interesting conversation with Ron last night," Harry told her

Ginny groaned. "He didn't go all 'Big brother' on you, did he?"

"Not really. I think one broken nose is enough. He did say some things that got me thinking though."

"Really? Like what?"

"Things about us, Ginny. What we're doing today, what our relationship is becoming."

"Oh."

"Look, I'm just going to be really honest with you, OK?"

Ginny didn't reply, but nodded at him briefly before looking stoically ahead.

"He told me that you thought we were going on a date, and how happy you were because I'd said that I liked you. I've had only one friend my own age until I came to Hogwarts. I didn't know the difference between two friends going to the same place together and two people going on a date. Until yesterday, liking something was a simple concept. You like someone or you don't. I never once considered that us going to Hogsmeade together today was a date, and when I inferred yesterday that I like you, I thought I was saying that I like you. Not that I _like_ you."

"Oh, my God. Did you get the mashed potatoes and Hermione speech?"

"It's a fine speech, Ginny, and it got me thinking. When you said that we liked each other yesterday, I agreed with you, not knowing what you really meant. But now that I know, I'm certainly very happy about it. I _do_ want this to be a date. And I do _like_ you."

"And how do you feel about mashed potatoes?" asked Ginny with a smile.

"Let me put it this way; I can imagine my life without mashed potatoes."

They wandered throughthe streets of Hogsmeade, Ginny pointing out where all the different shops were. Harry had been here once with Sirius and Remus when he was younger, but couldn't really remember much. The weak autumn sunshine warmed their faces as they strolled carelessly from the Shrieking Shack, at one end of the village, to the rocky hillside that stretched out as far as the eye could see at the end of Hogsmeade.

After making a stop at the Three Broomsticks for a couple of warm Butterbeers, Harry and Ginny had retired toa spot on the hillside where they could sit and enjoy the picnic they had brought along. A short while later, both had eaten their fill of sandwiches, fruit ad cakes. Ginny carefully and slowly packed all the plates and boxes back into the picnic basket they used, before using her wand to shrink it down and put it in her pocket. She lay down on her side, next to the messy-haired boy who was already relaxing beside her on the conjured blanket.

"Adam?" Ginny asked tentatively.

"Yes, Ginny?"

"Do you want to kiss me?"

"I…" Harry began, but he stopped almost immediately and cocked his head as if straining to hear something.

"What is it?"

"People are apparating into Hogsmeade…Come on!"

The pair scrambled down the hillside towards the village, balancing the need to hurry with taking cover behind rocks and boulders as they descended the hill. When they were close enough for Harry's avian eyesight to see, he stopped and ducked behind a large rock, pulling Ginny to his side. He quickly waved a hand and a scrap of paper and a pencil appeared on the grass. As he scribbled a note, a black falcon materialised in the air to Harry's left. It grabbed the scrap and took off at full speed towards the castle. Glancing at Ginny, Harry saw a question in her eyes.

"A warning to Dumbledore. There are Death Eaters in the village."

Ginny gasped. "What are we going to do?"

"We'll try and make our way back to the castle, using the back alleys and side streets. If absolutely necessary, we'll have to use your phoenix, but that'll be a last resort. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"Come on, then. We'll head to the back of the first building, on the right side of the main street."

Professor Dumbledore had enjoyed his lunch in the Great Hall immensely. He had just returned to his office, intent on completingsome paperwork while letting his salt beef salad digest, when a black falcon darted in through the window that was always left open for owls to come in and depart. Recognising the unusual bird as the one Adam Black used to send a message to Ginny Weasley, the old professor was a little surprised that it should fly into his office, considering his past dispute with the boy. This train of thought was quickly forgotten as Dumbledore read the note that had been clutched in the bird's talons.

Death Eaters attacking Hogsmeade.

AB

Following the resurgence of Voldemort, Dumbledore had wisely implemented emergency procedures should certain events occur. For this eventuality, he could alert all members of the Order of the Phoenix using rings enhanced with a Protean charm, which he did without a moment's delay. Included in the alert code transmitted to the members' rings, was the muster point, which was,in this case, the Hogwarts main gate.

As the Headmaster hurrieddown the spiral stairs that led from his office, his magically enhanced voice boomed throughout the castle.

"All students are to return to their dormitories immediately. All staff report to the Entrance Hall."

Within seven minutes, three quarters of the staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were zooming on broomsticks, which were located by the main doors for this very purpose, towards the village of Hogsmeade. At the school gate, the staff met with those Order members who had been able to answer the call, and the group set off together towards the normally peaceful village, hoping they were in time to prevent too much damage.

By the time the Order of the Phoenix and Hogwarts teachers were heading into the village, Ginny and Harry had managed to begin creeping along the back streets towards Hogwarts. Luck, however, was not on the pair's side, as they turned one corner to suddenly find themselves staring at a wizard in a black cloak and white mask laughing manically as he held a defenceless old man under the torturing curse.

"Oh, God!" Ginny couldn't help herself from crying out at the horrific scene in front of her. The bloodied and broken man banged helplessly against a wall as his twitching limbs thrashed uncontrollably. Hearing Ginny's whimper, the Death Eater broke the curse and wheeled around to face Harry and Ginny.

"Well, well, well. Two young children to play with," leered the masked man.

"S...Stay away from us," said Harry defiantly.

"I don't think so, little boy."

"Dumbledore's coming!" Ginny blurted out in desperation.

"Is he really, pretty girl? We had better hurry along, then. _Diffindo_!"

The man suddenly threw a cutting curse towards Harry, who instinctively blocked it with a wandlessly-cast shield, which caught the Death Eater by surprise. The pair of teens was too dumbstruck to take advantage of their aggressors pause, however, and he quickly continued his offensive, sending a _Cruciatus_ at Harry this time, forcing him to dive to one side. The spell sailed through the air where he had been standing. Using his feline-like agility, Harry's dive became a graceful roll, but his forced evasion gave the Death Eater time to cast another spell, this time at Ginny.

"_Imperio_!"

Ginny was a bit too slow to cast a shield around her,andthe magic washed over her, like waves on a beach. Yet, she felt no difference; there were no feelings of compulsion.

"Attack the boy!" the Death Eater commanded.

"Hell no!" cried Ginny, who had suddenly been galvanised into action by the outrageous suggestion that she should attack Harry.

"_IMPERIO_!" cried Voldemort's servant once more, but again the magic had no affect on Ginny, who could feel the influence of the phoenix keeping her mind safe from the assault.

Harry had regained his place by at Ginny's side. He slipped a hand through hers, and squeezed it gently."We have to get out of here," he whispered to her, as **their** eyes watched the Death Eater, who was considering his next move.

"Should we use…you know?"

Harry didn't have time to answer, as their attacker made a decisive move.

"Play time's over, kiddies. Which one of you first? Hmm? The boy, I think. _AV…_"

As the words of the Killing curse began to form on the Death Eater's lips, instinct took over in both of the teens. Ginny's wand snapped up to point at their would-be killer, and Harry's hands shot out in front of him, palms facing outwards. For the three protagonists, time seemed to come to a near stop, as the scene played out in slow motion.

"_ADA…_"

Flame burst from Ginny's wand tip and screamed through the air, burning with an intensity and purity that could only be created by one of good heart. A swirling, black jet of shadow arced from Harry's open hands.

"_KE…_"

As the paths of the jet of shadow and burst of fire converged, about half way between the young pair and their assailant, the two streams intertwined, twisting about each other as they sped towards their target.

The Death Eater, seeing this inexplicably black tinged fire shooting towards him, aborted his casting of the killing curse, instead yelling out a shielding spell.

"_PROTEGO_!"

The shield shimmered in placea fraction of a second before the shadow-laced flame reached it. Startling both Harry and Ginny, their combined spell tore through the Death Eater's shield like a knife slicing through flesh. The shadow and fire struck the man full in the chest, knocking him back into a wall and quickly engulfing his cloak. Crying out in despair and agony, the man who had chosen a dark path, a path in servitude of an evil master, quickly died a most unpleasant death.

Aurors Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks, having received the coded warning via their Order of the Phoenix rings, had alerted their fellow Aurors, and their forces, combined with the Hogwarts staff and otherOrder members, quickly overwhelmed the two dozen or so low-ranking Death Eaters that had descended on Hogsmeade. Seventeen had been taken into Ministry custody, while the rest had managed to either Disapparate or Portkey away, like the cowards they were

When the fighting ceased, injured civilians and Aurors were taken to St. Mungo's for treatment and recuperation, while a few staff and Order members headed for the school's hospital wing, and the skilful ministrations of Poppy Pomfrey. Those who remained, including Dumbledore, split up to search through the village for previously unidentified casualties.

It was the search team of Remus Lupin and Minerva McGonagall which came across a scene they had not at allexpected to find. As they turned the corner at the end of a side road into an alley that ran behind a row of houses, they were immediately struck by the lingeringstench of burned flesh. Looking around for the source of the smell, they first found an old man lying face down at the bottom of a wall. It was clear to both professors that he was dead – most likely from over-exposure to the torturing curse. Further along the alley, they found what they were looking for.

Slumped against another wall, was a different corpse. The remains of a black cloak and the blackened edges of a white mask revealed that this body belonged to a Death Eater. It wasn't just the cloak that seemed to be burned, but all the man's clothes were singed to some degree, but most disturbing of all, was the huge round scorch mark on the deceased's chest.

It was almost a perfect circle, about ten inches across. Where the jet of flame and shadow had struck, the man's chest now had a shallow crater that was blackened and charred. The flesh and muscle had burnt through, leaving the ends of scorched ribs visible in the dark, bloody mess. It took all of Professor McGonagall's stern countenance not to give in to the desire to bring up her lunch. Around the extremity of the burned-out crater, tiny black and red flames continued to dance and flicker. They weren't burning the man any longer, just remaining in place, almost like a message, or a calling card.

Entranced by the disgusting scene in front of them, neither professor noticed the pair of students clinging to each other, about fifteen yards up the alley, sitting on upturned crate. It was not until Ginny retched, that Remus and Professor McGonagall looked up and saw them. Running ahead of his more senior colleague, Remus reached the pair first, and, avoiding the pools of vomit that stained the ground, crouched down in front of them.

Ginny was sobbing desperately into Harry's shoulder, evidently distraught by what had occurred. Tracks of dried tears adorned her cheeks, which, like the rest of her face, were paler than normal. In contrast, Harry's face was a mask of dispassionate stoicism, his emerald eyes shining brightly and alertly, as his animal instincts forced him to protect his mate.

"Adam?" whispered Remus. "What happened?"

"He attacked us. We killed him," Harry responded, equally quietly.

"Mr. Black, Ms. Weasley," called Professor McGonagall, as she caught up with her colleague. "Are you hurt at all?"

"No, Professor. We're not," Harry replied, coolly.

"Then we must get you back to the school. It looks like Ms. Weasley could use a visit to the hospital wing. Professor Lupin, see that they get there."

"I will," Remus stated without looking at the senior teacher, who strode away to report what they had found to Dumbledore.

"Remus?" said Harry, tentatively.

"What is it, Adam?"

"I need some time alone with Ginny. There is something that will help her, but we need to go to a particular place."

"Adam, you're putting me in a difficult position."

"I don't care, Remus," Harry stated defiantly. "I can help her better than the school nurse can, and I won't let you stop me."

"What are you going to do?"

"I can't say. It has to do with animals, OK? You know what I mean?"

Remus sighed and nodded in resignation. "Very well, Adam. You have one hour. Professor McGonagall will tell Dumbledore, and Ginny's parents will be contacted."

"Thank you, Remus."

After watching his guardian return to the bodies of the Death Eater and the old man, Harry turned his attention to the girl who was clinging to him like her life depended on it.

"Ginny...Gin?"

She pulled away from him a little, just enough to look up into his eyes.

"You heard what he said?" She nodded slightly, but said nothing. "I want to go to the clearing. You need to hear your phoenix sing. It will calm you downmore than anything else will."

Once again, she nodded slowly, signalling her agreement. "What about Professor Lupin?" she whispered, speaking for the first time since they had killed the Death Eater.

"He's busy with the bodies. And even if someonedoes notice our absence, he won't tell anyone about us. He's my guardian, remember? Let's go quickly, before anyone else comes to see the bodies."

Fifteen yards away, Remus Lupin had been looking once more at the perpetual ring of tiny flames that were still burning on the dead man's chest. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, there were two quick flashes from where Harry and Ginny had been sitting. By the time he had turned his head to look, the pair was gone.

Ginny's phoenix brought the pair to the clearing in the Forbidden Forest, where they came each Saturday to talk and practice their various skills. Harry quickly conjured blankets for them to sit on, before guiding Ginny to the ground.

"The phoenix is a part of you, Ginny. You need to command it to sing."

With no outward sign that she had even heard his words, Ginny willed the bird to sing. She asked for a song of comfort, and the Phoenix responded with a soothing lament, that calmed the red-head's turbulent thoughts. For ten minutes, the bird sang and Ginny let the beautiful sound wash over her, cleansing her of the harrowing images that plagued her mind. Harry sat silently, listening to the trill of the phoenix, taking comfort from the soothing effect it had on Ginny. Surprisingly, it did little for Harry, but then, his soul was not troubled by what had transpired, butmerely by the impact it hadon the girl he cared for so deeply.

As the phoenix's melody came to a conclusion, Ginny stroked the soft red feathers on the bird's head and long neck.

"Adam?"

"Yes, Ginny?"

"Why aren't you upset by what we did? Why don't you care that we killed a man?"

Harry paused before answering her question. He had been thinking about this, while they had been listening to the phoenix song "I do care, Gin. I care tremendously, but only because it has upset you so much. Why I'm not bothered for myself, well, I think it's because of my animals."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about what they are; wolf, panther, falcon, snake and spider. Predators. Hunters. Each one kills in order to survive. I guess that's why I don't feel bad. Something threatened me, us, and we killed it. Call it survival instinct, or whatever you want, but I'm not going to feel bad for killing something that would have killed me and you had we given it the chance." Harry paused again, and looked at Ginny, hoping he wouldn't find repulsion in her eyes. "It's not what I would have chosen, Ginny, it really isn't. You do understand that, don't you? I didn't enjoy it. Please tell me you believe that."

"Yes, Adam, I do believe you, and I think I do understand. I just can't help being overwhelmed by the thought that I killed someone."

"The fox is a scavenger mainly, although they will kill to survive if they have to. The phoenix must have a much stronger influence on you than the fox, for you to feel this way. The phoenix is a symbol of all that is good and pure…"

"And I feel dirty and disgusted and anything but those things." Ginny's head dropped and she looked down into her lap. "I'm a killer."

"NO!" Harry cried, falling to his knees in front of her. "No. You fought for your life and survived. Voldemort is a killer. Grindelwald was a killer. That man we killed was a killer. You defended yourself the best way you could. Answer me this: is a Healer who ends the suffering of a patient a killer? A killer chooses to be that way, chooses a life of hate and destruction. You are anything but that."

Ginny's phoenix began to sing once again, almost as if it hadunderstood Harry's words and wanted to voice her agreement.

"The very fact that you've reacted this way shows that you are still inherently good and pure," continued Harry. The phoenix song echoed around the clearing and slowly, Ginny's head began to lift and a small smile formed on her lips. "What is it, Ginny?"

"The phoenix song – I can understand it. She's telling me that she agrees with what you said. That I'm still pure, that she still wants to be a part of me."

"So you're going to be OK?"

"Yes, Adam. I'll be OK. I expect it'll take a little while, but thanks to you, and her, I'm already starting to come to terms with what I've done."

"Good. Come on, we need to get back to the castle, before Remus gets it in the neck from McGonagall."

As it happened, Remus was waiting for the two youngsters just outside the main doors to castle.

"Thank you for doing as I asked Adam, and coming back within an hour. Now, if anyone asks, instead of coming straight back here, I took you somewhere we could talk about what had happened, OK?"

"I won't lie, Professor," Ginny responded quickly. "If I'm asked, I'll explain that you allowed us some time alone to talk, but I won't lie for you. I'm sorry."

"What about you, Adam?"

"I agree with Ginny entirely. We are not going to apologise for dealing with our issues in a way that is best for us."

"Very well, then. I just hope Professor McGonagall understands."

"Remus, there's nothing and no onein this castle that could keep us somewhere we didn't want to be, and Ihave no problem with making the old man aware of it ifnecessary."

The werewolf was taken aback by the vehemence of his young charge's words, but he had learned long ago not underestimate what Harry could do. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Shall we…?"

Remus led the way through the corridors to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was busy tending to those who had beenwounded in the village, so the three new arrivals loitered around near the entrance. Eventually, the matron bustled over to them, looking flustered and tired.

"Professor McGonagall informed me you were on your way, although she led me to believe you would be here before now. Still, you're here now, so let's have a look at you." The old nurse shooed Harry and Ginny to neighbouring beds, and Ginny climbed onto one without thought. Harry, on the other hand, stood by her side rather than take the bed to which he had assigned.

"Mr. Black, would you please…?" The nurse trailed off as she made the mistake of looking to the boy's eyes.

"Ginny first," he commanded, and the old witch gave her head a quick shake, before tearing her gaze away from the fierce green eyes and attending to the girl on the bed before her.

After performing a few quick diagnostic spells, the nurse was quick to make her prognosis. "Miss Weasley, you have no physical damage. Why did Professor McGonagall insist that you visit me?"

Ginny was about to respond when Remus interrupted. "Actually, Poppy, these two have suffered a somewhat traumatic experience this afternoon. I think Minerva wondered if some Dreamless Sleep might be in order."

"Well, Miss Weasley. You are one of the few mature enough students whoseopinion I will take into account. Do you want a potion?"

Ginny thought for a moment, looking at Harry for reassurance. Seeing a slight smile on his lips, and the faintest of nods, she agreed. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey, I would like that."

"Very well. What about you, Mr. Black?" The matron turned to face the black haired boy, although she was careful not to look into his eyes this time. "Do you require something to help you sleep?"

"No. I do not."

"As you wish. Wait here, Miss Weasley." Madam Pomfrey scurried to her office, at the far end of the infirmary, before quickly returning with a tiny vial. "Take this when you go to bed. Drink all of it and return the vial tomorrow." She handed Ginny the small glass container, before hurrying off to her next patient, all the while grumbling about stubborn Slytherins.

"Come, you two. We need to go to see the headmaster. Ginny, I expect your parents are waiting for you." Remus' words, although gently spoken, nevertheless resurrected the uncertainty in Ginny's mind over hers' and Harry's earlier actions.

"I'm not sure if I can face them," Ginny whispered to Harry, as she swung her legsoff ofthe hospital bed.

"Remember all those things we spoke about. Think of the phoenix's song. Sing it in your head; remember how it made you feel. If a phoenix continues to accept you, then your parents surely will." Harry whispered these words of comfort into Ginny's ear as they followed Remus out of the hospital wing and into the hallowed halls of the ancient school.

"Thank you," she whispered in return.

Walking close together, Ginny and Harry's hands brushed. As their armsnext swung past each other, Harry's larger hand clasped onto Ginny's smaller, delicate one, and held it protectively. After several minutes winding through the passages and corridors, the group of three arrived at the stone gargoyles that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's domain.

Stopping to give the password, Remus glanced at Harry and Ginny. Noticing their joined hands, he threw Harry a quick look that clearly said they would be discussing things later. Ginny was politely encouraged to be first up the moving spiral staircase, after the gargoyles had allowed them past. The history professor held Harry back long enough to whisper to him.

"And don't think I didn't hear you mention a phoenix."

All too soon, however, Harry and Ginny were standing outside the door to Albus Dumbledore's study. More than prepared to face up to whoever was inside, Harry confidently opened the door and stepped into the office, Ginny and Remus trailing in behind him.

"It is considered polite to knock before entering a private office, Black," came a sneering voice from a corner of the room.

Failing to acknowledge his Head of House, Harry addressed his reply directly to the Headmaster, who was sitting in his customary position, behind the large oak desk. "Forgive me, Headmaster. I was under the impression that we were expected."

"Indeed you were, Black," a stern Scottish voice intoned from another corner. "And some time ago as well."

"Headmaster, I will happily discuss with you the events of earlier today. But first, may I ask if Ginny's parents are here? I believe they would want to see her as soon as possible."

"Very well, Mr. Black. Miss Weasley, please come with me. Your parents are through this doorway, in my antechamber." The headmaster rose from his chair and guided Ginny around his desk towards a door that neither of the two children had previously noticed. Pausing before she stepped through the doorway, Ginny looked back at Harry, who spoke just one word.

"Remember!" She gave him a small smile, and stepped resolutely through the door andinto the second room.

Harry remained standing when Professor Dumbledore resumed his seatbehind is desk. Remus stood behind Harry, while Snape and McGonagall remained in their positions, on opposite sides of the Headmaster's office.

"Please sit down, Mr. Black," said the Headmaster, although it was more of a command than a polite offer, to which Harry complied. "Now then, perhaps you would be so kind as to explain the events that transpired in Hogsmeade earlier."

Harry was about to begin, when the surly Potions master interjected.

"Headmaster, may I enquire as to the presence of Professor Lupin? It is Professor McGonagall and myself who are responsible for the two students in question."

It was Harry who spoke in front of both Dumbledore and McGonagall this time. "Actually, Professor Snape, Remus is one of my guardians. Had he not already been here, I would have requested his presence."

"And I suppose that no-good mongrel Sirius Black is your other guardian, is he?" Snape replied with a sneer.

Harry turned to face his Head of House, his eyes bright with anger. "I believe, sir, that it is poor form to insult an ancient and noble wizarding house."

"Poor form?" Snape responded derisively. "What are you going to do, Black? Duel me here in the Headmaster's office? I'd like to see you…" Snape wasn't given the chance to utterthe last word of his sentence. In the same way he had dealt with Malfoy the night before, Harry had moved across the room and had his wand in Snape's neck before anyone else could react, although the Potion Master's wand was soon in has hand as well.

"I wouldn't waste my breath," whispered Harry menacingly. Snape was stunned by the speed of the boy's movement and the fierce intensity of his gaze. As the master and pupil stared into each other's eyes for a moment, Dumbledore sought to regain control of the situation.

"Mr. Black, please sit back down." Harry backed away from Snape and slumped back into the wooden chair in front of the Headmaster's desk. "Severus, please hold your tongue." These words were spoken sharply, and made it quite clear that Dumbledore was not pleased with his subordinate's conduct.

"Now, Mr. Black. Please explain what happened in Hogsmeade."

Harry made a quick glance at Remus, who gave him an encouraging nod. "Ginny and I were on the hillside, beyond the far end of the village…" Seeing Dumbledore's raised eyebrows, Harry paused for a moment before continuing. "…enjoying the view. I heard the sounds of people Apparating into the village…"

"You heard? From the hillside?" McGonagall butted in.

"Yes, Professor, I have excellent hearing. As I was saying, I heard the sound of people Apparating into Hogsmeade, which seemed strange, so we came down the hillside back towards the buildings to have a look. Seeing Death Eaters in the main street, I sent you the note with my falcon."

"Indeed, I am very grateful for your warning. The promptness of it certainly minimised the damage and the casualty rate considerably. Although, I am curious as to how you were able to get it to me so quickly. Was your falcon with you?"

"He is very intuitive, sir." Dumbledore didn't respond, clearly hoping for more details that Harry wasn't going to give. "We were trying to get back to the castle, by taking the back streets and alleys behind the main street. We had hoped to avoid getting into any trouble that way. However, we came across a Death Eater torturing an old man. When he saw us, he left the man aloneand turned to face us instead. He attacked me with the Cruciatus Curse, but I was able to dodge it. As he started to cast the Killing Curse at us, we both instinctively defended ourselves."

"There is no defending the Killing curse, Mr. Black. Please elaborate," asked Dumbledore.

"Attack is the often the best defence. We simultaneously attacked him with whatever came naturally to us. I would say it was a mixture of impulsive and accidental magic."

"Mr. Black! Between the two of you, you burnt through the man's chest down to the bone beneath. There was a perfect ring of flame still burning on his chest when Professor Lupin and I arrived. Accidental magic simply doesn't happen this way," Professor McGonagall said, soundinghighly flustered for someone who was usually unflappable.

Harry turned to look briefly at the Transfiguration teacher before returning his gaze to the headmaster. "As far as I'm concerned, the guy tried to kill Ginny and I.We defended ourselves and killed him instead. For some reason, I'm OK with that."

"Typical Slytherin," muttered the Gryffindor Head of House, under her breath.

"Ginny, on the other hand, was extremely shaken by what we did. Please don't question her in this way. She can tell you no more than I."

"I will take your request into consideration, Mr. Black. Now, would you excuse us, please? I would like to discuss matters with your Professors."

"Would it be alright if I joined Ginny and spoke with her parents?"

"Of course. Please go through to the antechamber."

With Harry's advice foremost in her mind, Ginny filled her thoughts with the memory of the beautiful phoenix song and stepped through the doorway into Dumbledore's antechamber. The room was smaller than the large office, and it was clear that it wasn't used often, being reserved primarily for sensitive meetings between students and their parents. There were no portraits on the walls, no gadgets or magical objects such as those that adorned the Headmaster's office, and of which he was so fond. No, the room was simply furnished with a pair of soft, deep red sofas, which were opposite each other and separated by a low oak table. It was on one of these sofas that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were sat waiting, when they heard their only daughter come through the door.

Ginny stopped just inside the doorway, as her parents both turned to look at her. After a fleeting pause, Molly Weasley was off ofher seat and engulfing her daughter in a typically overwhelming hug. Moments later, she let go of her andheld her at arm's length takinga good look at her. The experienced mother could see the dried tears on Ginny's pale cheeks and sensed the sadness and weariness in her daughter's posture.

"What happened, Ginny? What is it?"

Ginny said nothing, but looked at her father instead. The usually jolly face of Arthur Weasley was calm and serious today; a side of him Ginny rarely saw. "Professor Dumbledore told us that you were caught up in the Death Eater attack on Hogsmeade, but he didn't tell us more than that."

Seeing the expressionless face of her father was too much for the young girl. The stern image replaced the phoenix song in her mind, and her composure slowly crumpled and tears began to fall once more. Arthur quickly stepped forward and held his daughter close, trying to give her the comfort she clearly needed.

"I'm…sorry…" the distraught girl cried. "I'm…so…sorry."

Breaking away slightly from his daughter, Arthur bentdown so he could look straight into Ginny's swollen eyes. "Whatever has happened, whatever you have or have not done, you are our daughter and we will always, always love you more than you could ever possibly imagine, OK? There's nothing that will ever change that."

"Really?"

"I promise, little one. Your mother, too."

"Yes, Ginny, that goes for me, too," Molly said softly. "Now, come and sit down and tell us what has happened."

Ginny allowed herself to be guided to one of the sofas, where she sat down between her two parents.

"I was with Adam in Hogsmeade…"

"Who is Adam?"

"He's the boy who carried me out of the woods in the summer, and fixed my ankle. Do you remember him, Dad?"

"Yes, petal. I remember him."

"Adam heard Death Eaters Apparating into the village, so he sent a message to Professor Dumbledore. We were trying to use the back streets to get back to the castle gates when a Death Eater attacked us."

"Oh, my sweet child," cried Molly. "Were you hurt? Did he hurt you?"

"No, mum. I'm fine."

"So what happened, sweetheart?" Arthur prompted.

"He started to cast the k…" Ginny broke off, unable to say the words.

"Come on, love. It's OK. Whatever happened, it's over now." Arthur gentled stroked his daughter's hair as he spoke. Ginny composed herself, and tried to act upon Harry's advice. Hearing the phoenix's calming melody in her head, she lifted her head and spoke confidently to her parents.

"He started to cast the Killing curse."

"OH!" cried Molly, and she clutched her hands to her chest. Arthur paled, but said nothing. After several moments in which none of the three spoke, the door to the room cracked open, and Harry stepped through. To the surprise of both of her parents, Ginny leapt up off the sofa and went straight to the black-haired boy, who opened his arms and pulled her close to him. Speaking over the top of Ginny's head, Harry addressed her parents.

"I apologise for intruding, but I wanted to make sure Ginny was OK."

"That's quite alright, young man," replied Arthur, as he stood up. "Last time we met, I called you Shadow, but I understand your name is actually Adam?"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley. Adam Black."

"Black?" Arthur repeated, with a quirk of an eyebrow. "I take it you are related to Sirius Black. That would explain why you were so keen to see Pettigrew apprehended."

"Yes, sir. We are distant family."

"Ginny was just explaining to us what happened to you earlier. Her last statement left Molly and I rather shocked. Perhaps, darling, you should finish the tale." Arthur sat back down,next to his wife, who clung on to him, scared of what the teens were going to say next. Harry and Ginny sat opposite her parents, similarly close together, and holding each others hands for support.

"So, Ginny, what happened when the Death Eater started to cast the…that curse?" Arthur asked tentatively.

Harry glanced at Ginny before answering, silently asking for permission to answer on behalf of them both, which she gave with the merest of nods. Knowing that she wouldn't want him to take the blame entirely himself, Harry gave the most honest of answers.

"We killed him first."

By the evening, the remainder of the student population had by now heard the news that Death Eaters had attacked Hogsmeade. Harry and Ginny's study circle were gathered in the Hogwarts library, as they usually were on a Sunday evening, although none of them were actually working. Each one was concerned for the welfare of their friends, and in Ron's case, his sister, who had gone to bed early with her Dreamless Sleep potion. Adam, as far as they knew, was with Professor Lupin. Grace was humming a tune while she pretended to study; a harmless act that today was infuriating her cousin.

"Do you have to sing, Gracie? I'm trying to concentrate."

"Sorry, H. That tune is just stuck in my head, you know?"

"What is it, anyway?" Ron asked.

"It's called Red and Black. It's from a Muggle musical about the French Revolution."

"Red and Black, huh? Just like Ginny and Adam."

"And the nursery rhyme!" piped up Luna, who had been quietly reading the Quibbler.

"What?" spluttered Hermione.

"The old wizarding nursery rhyme. How did it go…? _Child of shadow, boy in black, carries the weight of the world on his back. Child of fire, girl in red, don't let them catch you out of your bed_."

"Hey, I remember that," said Ron. "Mum used to sing it to me and Ginny."

"What does it mean?" asked Hermione.

"I dunno," Ron replied. "It's just a nursery rhyme, isn't it?"

"Oh no, Ron," said Grace, with a smile on her face. "Hermione here is a bit obsessive when it comes to nursery rhymes."

"I am not obsessive. It's just that they're fascinating." Grace stifled a giggle, but Hermione carried on, unabashed, "Nursery rhymes are always based on legends or myths or historical events. It's just a matter of doing the research to find the correct origins. There's bound to be something in here somewhere…" Hermione quickly put away her school work and disappeared into the rows of books.

"You've done it now, Luna," laughed Grace. "Now she won't stop until she's found out who the 'Boy in black' and the 'Girl in red' are."


	8. In which Voldemort gets personal

This is the penultimate chapter, and things start building towards the finale. Mega hugs to SNB.

Chapter 8: In which Voldemort gets personal

**Attack on Hogsmeade – Death Eaters Apprehended**

**By Rita Skeeter**

At approximately 1pm yesterdayafternoon, the sleepy village of Hogsmeade, Scotland, was rudely awoken from its peaceful routine by the sudden and dramatic arrival of aforce of Death Eaters, believed to number around twenty four. Despite the apparent aim of You-Know-Who's fanatical supporters to cause as much damage as possible, the side of Light, for once, scored a significant victory.

Within moments of the intruders' Apparating into the main street of the village, warning was sent to Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster ofthe nearby Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Responding immediately to the warning, the Supreme Mugwump led staff members and other wizards, believed to bemembers of a secretive organisation called The Order of the Phoenix, into battle with the evil-doers.

Our valiant and brave members of the Auror division were also quickly deployed, and were instrumental in bringing about the confinement of 17 Death Eaters. One Death Eater was killed in the skirmish, and his death wasbelieved to have been the result of an obscure fire spell. It is unclear at this time which member of the Light side's forces was responsible for this killing.

Ministry sources reveal that the apprehended Death Eaters are being held awaiting trial. For further information on the clandestine existence of The Order of the Phoenix, turn to…

Harry passed the _Daily Prophet_ back to Blaise Zabini, to whom h happened to be sitting with for a change, and returned his attention to the now-cold sausages and scrambled eggs on his breakfast plate. Surprising the other boy, Harry made no outward response to the content of the newspaper article, as if it had been the most trivial story in the world.

"That's it? No clever comment?"

"What do want me to say, Zabini? How pleased I am that these idiots were caught, and antagonise half my own house? Or maybe I should laud their efforts and be hexed by the entire Gryffindor table?"

"Attaboy, Black. I knew you had a retort in you somewhere."

"Glad to be of service, Zabini. Now, if you'll permit it, I'd like to eat my cold breakfast in peace, so I can think up more sharp responses to your inane questions."

"Permission granted, you insufferable git."

"Sticks and stones, Zabini."

"Huh?"

"Stupid pureblood," Harry muttered, just loud enough for his house-mate to hear.

Monday's lessons passed by uneventfully for both Harry and Ginny. The pair was well above average in terms of power and were studious as well. As a result, lessons mostlycame and went without incident. Following dinner, the couple met in Remus' History of Magic classroom, a place within the castle where they could be assured of refuge away from prejudiced house-mates or over-zealous teachers. Under Binns' tenure, the room had become synonymous with boredom, to the extent that most students avoided it out of habit.

Remus, as usual, was ensconced in his office which adjoined the classroom. This evening he was occupied with the grading of First Year assignments on Goblin history. Even though the ghostly Professor Binns was merely a fading memory, the subject of Goblin Rebellions still featured in the History of Magic curriculum. The main differences being that the teacher made the subject interesting and that it only formed a portion of the topics covered.

Despite his guardian being engrossed in the nefarious doings of Flintrock the Vicious in 1637, and behind the heavy oak door of his closed office,Harry still placed a wandlessly cast privacy charm around the back pair of desks in the classroom, on the left hand side. The werewolf had exceptional hearing, and although Harry was happy to share things with his guardian, Ginny may not be. The two adolescents pulled the chairs close to each other, and Harry took Ginny's small hands in his own.

"How are you today?"

"I'm OK. I've been channelling my inner phoenix."

"So you've come to terms with what we did?"

"I'm getting there. My head knows we did the right thing, it's just my heart that needs convincing. Having a phoenix singing in my head all day definitely works wonders."

"I'm glad you're doing OK. I've been thinking about you all day."

"Me too.So how was your day?"

"Uneventful," he said. He stopped for an instant before bringing up a matter that had been weighing on his mind ever since last afternoon. "Look, Ginny...what we did, what our magic did – I want to understand what happened. Our magic combined when we killed that Death Eater. I saw it, but I felt it, too. Please tell me you felt it as well."

"Yes. I did. It was like…" Ginny paused as she thought of the right words. "It felt as if we had one pool of magic between us. It was much stronger than when I feel just my own magic."

Harry didn't respond straightaway but considered her words for a moment. Now that Ginny described it, he realised itwas what he had felt, too. Their magical reserves had combined and grown, just for that moment when they hadcalled on their instinctive magics; hisshadow and Ginny's fire.

"I think we should talk to Remus."

"What? Tell him everything?"

"Yes. There's one thing I haven'tmentioned when I've told you about my life. It's nothing big, it's just never been important. When Remus and Sirius took me from the orphanage, we made promise to each other; full disclosure, no secrets. He knows about me; everything about me - the animals, the parseltongue, the wandless stuff. If we want to learn about this combining of our magic, than he will help us."

"You think we should tell him about me? About the fox and the phoenix? The magical bond between us?"

"Yes, I do. He's a very clever man, a lot like Hermione in some ways – he's big on research – but I know he'll help us, and keep our secrets. If you don't want to tell, I'll drop it and never ask again. It's up to you."

"Merlin, Harry. Even my parents don't know about what I can do, yet you want me to reveal my secrets to someone I hardly know."

"I know him. I'd trust him with my life."

"Yes, he is a good man; that much I have sensed already." Ginny let out a sigh and pulled one of her hands away from Harry to sweep her long hair over her shoulder. "Fine; we will talk to Professor Lupin. If you trust him, then I will, too. I know you would never lead me down the wrong path."

"Thank you, Ginny. I really think he will help us understand what's happening. Come on, he's in his office now."

Harry waved his hand to remove the privacy charm and the two walked up through the rows of old wooden chairs and desks towards Remus' office door.

"Alright if we come in, Moony?" Harry called after he had knocked.

"We?" Remus called back.

Harry chose not to reply to his guardian, but assumed that his permission had been granted. Opening the door, Harry politely ushered Ginny ahead of him. The pair settled onto a small sofa that was in front of the office's fireplace. Remus sat in the small armchair that completed the suite and politely asked Harry and Ginny how they were.

Ignoring the question, Harry dived straight in with what he wanted to talk to the older man about. "Moony, you know my animals?"

Remus nodded, not knowing whether he should be more surprised that Harry was bringing this up out of the blue, or that he was bringing it up in front of Ginny Weasley."Ginny has them, too."

Harry and Ginny went on to explain to an astoundedRemus how Harry's wolf had smelled Ginny's fox, back in the summer when they had met in the forest near their homes. They told him how they had spent each Saturday in the Forbidden Forest so thatGinny could get to know her animals and start to develop their senses in the same way that Harry had done, many years before. Harry also sheepishly mentioned how he had carelessly allowed the two of them to be bound to each other, albeit weakly, thanks to his carless words. Ginny, Remus noticed, didn't appear to be concerned by this at all.

When Ginny took over the story-telling, Remus found her voice incredibly easy to listen to; it was a calm voice, soothing and gentle. The History professor was interested in the kid's tale of the strange little black book, how it had felt evil from the start, and how it behaved when they burned it. This piece of information it was agreed Remus should discuss with the Headmaster, to see if the old mage and the Marauder could puzzle it out.

Finally, Harry and Ginny explained what had really happened when they killed the Death Eater, how they had each cast the magic that came to them most instinctively, fire for Ginny and shadow for Harry.

"And your two spells merged?"

"The magic merged, Moony. There were no spells, as such; just magic. After it left my hands and Ginny's wand, heading towards the Death Eater, the two streams converged far sooner than they should have done, and seemed to weave together. From the point they met, it looked like black flames. What I didn't mention to Dumbledore…"

"You mean apart from everything you've just told me?" Remus teased.

Harry ignored the older man and continued. "As I was saying, the Death Eater tried to put up a shield when he saw our magic heading for him."

"So?"

It was Ginny who finished the explanation. "Our combined shadow and fire went through his shield like my brother goes through his breakfast."

"Huh?" said the males.

"Quickly, efficiently and before you've noticed, there's nothing left."

"In other words," said Harry. "Our magic sliced through the guy's shield like it wasn't there, and left a crater where his ribs used to be."

"So, do you want me to talk to Dumbledore about this, too? I've never heard of this before."

"NO!" cried both the teenagers.

"No," repeated Harry, more calmly when Remus' eyebrows shot up in surprise. "We want to experiment. Found out whether this was a one-off, or if it will happen again. When things with Voldemort come to a head, this might be a valuable weapon."

"You told Ginny about…?"

"Yes, he did," the girl in question piped up. "Whatever caused us to both have these tattoos, it's left me feeling connected to Adam like a kindred spirit. With the bond on top of that, there's no chance I'm going to not be by his side every step of the way."

"And she knows…?"

"Yes, Moony. I told her who I really am. So, will you help us figure this shadow-fire thing out?"

"Of course I will, Adam. Now, have either of you heard of the Room of Requirements?"

Homework and full moons permitting, the young couple spent two evenings each week with Remus in the mysterious Room of Requirements, using it as a safe training environment. For Harry and Ginny, it was a fantastic opportunity for them to allow their animals out during the week, something which greatly benefitted Ginny, as she was still a long way behind Harry in developing the traits of both the fox and the phoenix.

On their first evening in the room, Remus had given the pair some good-natured ribbing about their new status as an official couple. "I feel so proud, my cub's growing up. Now then, Adam, you do know it's only a small step from kissing to other things…"

"Hold your horses there, you old fleabag," Harry interrupted. "We haven't…"

"Well that's a good thing," Remus interrupted back. "Ginny is only fourteen after all and…"

"And we haven't even kissed yet!" said Harry forcefully to his guardian, who was trying hard not to show his amusement.

"No. We haven't," Ginny saidthrough gritted teeth. "Stupid Death Eaters."

"Well," said Moony, "Shall we make a start…?"

Over the weeks leading up towards Christmas, the three tested Harry's shadow, Ginny's fire and the two combined in everyway they could think of. The strange black conjured nothingness withstood each and every curse or hex that Remus could think of to throw at itwhen used as a shield. The blackness just seemed to absorb whatever came in contact with it. Even conjured objects disappeared into the shadowy nothingness. Finally, after exhausting every other idea, they tested Harry's shadow shield against the Unforgivables.

The Imperius curse was unable to penetrate a thin shield of shadow, whereas the Cruciatus would penetrate if the barrier was not thick enough. With Harry's animalistic reflexes, he could still react quickly enough to create a sufficiently thick shield to absorb Remus' _Crucio_, leaving the conjured rats they were experimenting with unscathed in their cage. Several weeks were required to find a way to block the worst curse of them all. The Killing Curse would make its way through Harry's shadow barrier, no matter how thick he made it. Enough of the sickly green spell always seeped through and ended the life of therats the barrier was trying to protect. The solution lay, they discovered, in the shape of the shield. Instead of blocking the spell with a flat barrier, they tried using a diamond-shaped shield; the hateful magic of the curse was drawn along the sides of the diamond as it flared out past the defender, leaving him safe as the spell was slowed, split and diverted either to either side of the intended victim.

Ginny's fire was nothing more spectacular than extremely hot flames. What astounded Remus more than anything was the redhead's control over the element, and her ease at doing what ever she wanted with it. They carried outsome tests, but it was soon established that anything flammable would be swiftly incinerated by the phoenix-powered fire.

The third aspect of these two extraordinary kids' magic that the three examined was, of course, the strange phenomenon of Harry and Ginny's shadow and fire combining. The conclusion of many tests and experiments was that so long as the pair was within about twenty yards of each other and shooting at the same target with their respective flame and darkness, the magic would seek out its counterpart and merge together before striking said target. The strongest shield that Remus could conjure was effortlessly pierced by the combined flame, which varied in appearance dependent on the effort either Harry or Ginny poured into the magic. If Harry's shadow was stronger, Ginny's flames would appear almost entirely black, whereas if Ginny put in more effort than Harry, the coloured flames would have a black outline only. If both of them let their magic flow with every bit of power they cold muster, Harry's slighter greater raw power won out, resulting in mostly dark flames that had a fiercely bright red centre. At this maximum strength, anything that the werewolf could stack in its path was obliterated by the merged magic. The History professor suggested that they needed Dumbledore if the testing was to be taken any further, an option which Harry refused to consider at this time.

Around the beginning of December, the old headmaster made an announcement at dinner one evening that threw half of the castle's inhabitants into various levels of panic.

"Students of Hogwarts," intoned the old man over the general hubbub of hundreds of chattering children, before pausing so they could quieten down. "As you are all aware, the Wizarding society of Great Britain is once again under the threat of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters." After a pause to let the gasping at the Dark Lord's name die down, Dumbledore continued, "Difficult and dangerous times are upon us. Only a few short weeks ago, the village of Hogsmeade was attacked by Death Eaters. Fortunately, only a few casualties were sustained by the villagers and no Hogwarts students were hurt. Acts of terrorism breed fear. This is their very purpose; to generate disharmony and uncertainty. If we let ourselves be cowed by the heinous actions of a small minority, then the terror-mongers and evil-doers have won. Here at Hogwarts I say that we will not be intimidated. We will not bury our heads in the sand and stop living our lives."

The aging headmaster paused again in his speech, taking a moment to survey the faces in front of him, all listening silently to his passionate speech. Suddenly, his serious expression lightened and a warm and friendly smile broke out on his hirsute face.

"So, in order to continue living our lives, I have decided we shall have a Christmas ball. It will take place on the evening of the Winter Solstice, the 21st of this month. The dress code for this ball is strictly formal, and open to Fourth Years and above. Other students may attend as a guest of an older student. I believe there is a Hogsmeade weekend between now and then, for those of you who may need to procure outfits for this event. I look forward to seeing many of you there, and having a truly magical evening."

Dumbledore's announcement took place on a Friday, meaning that Harry and Ginny spent the next day together in their clearing in the Forbidden Forest. Of course, Harry gallantly asked Ginny if she would like to escort him to the ball, immediately gaining her consent. Still not big on affectionate outbursts, Harry hugged his girlfriend and they shared a tender kiss. After a short discussion about how exciting and romantic the ball would be, mostly based on Harry agreeing with Ginny's out-loud musings, the topic soon moved round to robes. The pair decided that this would be the night that they revealed their relationship to the school at large. It wasn't a secret by any means, but the young pair was still fairly discrete about it. With Harry insisting that money would be no object, the enigmatic teenagers set about designing themselves the perfect robes. Later that night, Harry's black falcon was winging its way to Devon, its talons tightly clutching a letter addressed to Sirius. A letter asking for help procuring dress robes for a ball that would be talked about for years to come.

It was barely a few days after Dumbledore's speech and announcement about the Christmas Ball that the excited mood in the castle began to wane. As if a direct response to the old Headmaster's words, and quite possibly as a result of children of Death Eaters writing home to their parents, Voldemort chose to go on the offensive. On the Wednesday, the school at large was busy enjoying the sumptuous breakfast that the Hogwarts' House Elves had dutifully provided as usual. All of a sudden, the chatter quietened down as a stranger dressed in the dark red cloak of the Ministry's Auror division entered the hall ad strode purposefully towards the Headmaster. After a brief whispered discussion, Dumbledore gestured towards Professor Sprout, who led the Auror to a third year at the Hufflepuff table. Needless to say, the girl did not return to classes for the remainder of the term.

"Who was that girl?" Harry whispered to Naomi Crabbe, next to whom he often sat at breakfast time.

"Jenny Jones,**" **she replied instantly; it seemed that there wasn't the young Miss Crabbe didn't know of. She's got a brother who's due to come here next year. Mother's a Squib, father's a Muggle bootfaller or something like that."

"Do you mean a footballer?"

"Yeah, that's it. What kind of a job is that anyway?"

"It's a Muggle sport."

"Oh. Well, I think they lived near Manchester, great big house. Father's rich, for a Muggle."

"How do you know all this stuff?"

"Oh, you know. I keep my ears open."

"Yeah right!" Harry retorted. Naomi was unable to respond to her Fifth Year friend because the owl post chose that moment to arrive. Around the hall, many gasps were heard as the older students and staff unrolled their morning editions of the _Daily Prophet_. Half of the front page was taken up by an eerie photograph of the Dark Mark hovering in the night sky above a burning house.

**The Dark Mark Returns**

**By Seeta Kerrit**

The Wizarding public of Britain was shocked to its core last night at one of the most terrifying sights in our history; a colossal skull with a snake protruding out of its mouth. Yes, fellow witches and wizards, we are once again waking up to see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's Dark Mark hanging in the sky. There can no longer be any doubt that You-Know-Who has returned to terrorise Great Britain once more.

Following the attack on Hogsmeade several weeks ago (see page 4 for more information), there had been no indication as to whether that incident was a one-off or the sign of things to come. It seems however, that the latter is true, as the chilling skull and snake symbol was witnessed in seven towns and cities across the country last night. It is believed that random Muggle homes were selected as targets.

The Ministry urges the Wizarding population to take precautions. Do not linger in isolated places. Brush up on rusty defence skills, but above all, remember that the Ministry's Aurors are working around the clock to bring these criminals to justice….

Five days later, another attack occurred. The first noticeable difference was that three Aurors, in their distinctive red uniforms, marched into the hall. Remembering what had happened the week before, the occupants of the Great Hall held their breath, waiting, wondering, praying the Death Messenger would not come to them.

**The Violence Continues**

**By Kris Atetere**

In the second night of terror in this spate of Death Eater violence, thirteen Muggle targets were attacked last night. Teams of Obliviators worked tirelessly in the small hours of the morning, modifying the memories of Muggles who witnessed the Dark Mark floating eerily in the sky above their neighbours' houses.

It is believed that seventeen Muggles and Squibs were killed during the night, leaving three Hogwarts' students without parents…

The following week, Voldemort and his supporters stepped things up a notch, moving from inconsequential Muggle targets and deciding to strike at the heart of British Wizarding society.

**Death Eaters Attack St. Mungo's**

**By Kersti Teare**

In an unprecedentedand unexpected move by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, a band of raging Death Eaters caused both death and destruction alike when they rampaged through the wards of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies.

Striking in the dead of night, Aurors estimate that between twenty and thirty of the Dark Lord's supporters forced their way into the hospital, before indiscriminately torturing and killing both staff and patients alike. In all, twenty three patients and eight hospital staff were killed by the Death Eaters, with many more seriously injured.

The Aurors, aided by the mysterious Order of the Phoenix, managed to apprehend several of the masked attackers, although not without suffering their own losses. It is believed that two Aurors were also killed in the line of duty last night….

In the weeks that followed the attack on St Mungo's, further lesser skirmishes continued to dominate the front pages of the Daily Prophet. The buoyant mood following Dumbledore's passionate speech was long forgotten as each morning the student populace waited with baited breath to see if any of the Ministry's red cloaked Aurors would appear with ill tidings. Even the Slytherin house had been affected by the attacks, with several students losing parents who refused to join the ranks of the Dark Lord.

Harry continued to read with horror at the atrocities these men and women committed in the misguided name of blood purity. Although his Slytherin persona made Harry appear to be indifferent to the state of society, on the inside his inner wolf howled at the unnecessary loss of life. The intelligent panther roared at the pointlessness of it all, while his inner falcon cried at the cowardice these sycophantic barbarians displayed. In contrast, the cold-blooded snake and spider did not seem to respond to Harry's emotional state.Eventually, on December 21st, came the straw that broke the camel's back. Voldemort was getting personal.

**You-Know-Who Speaks in Diagon Alley**

**By Terri Steake**

During an alarming afternoon at Diagon Alley, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself spoke to the nation. The events began around three o'clock yesterday afternoon when dozens of masked and robed Death Eaters Apparated into Diagon Alley. Remarkably, the attackers used no Unforgiveable curses, choosing only to petrify or stun those few shoppers and storekeepers who were on the alley's streets.

A woefully undermanned force of Ministry Aurors was quickly overwhelmed by the superior number of Death Eaters, but they, too, were left relatively unharmed by their aggressors. Making their way to the marble steps of Gringotts Bank, which had sealed its doors at the first sign of a disturbance, the victorious Death Eaters lined up on the steps, as if waiting for something to happen.

I can tell you, my faithful readers, that something did indeed happen. After several minutes of waiting, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Apparated into Diagon Alley, strode calmly towards his waiting contingent of Death Eaters before turning calmly to address all the people who were in the Alley. His high, chilling voice carried throughout the street, his words terrifying.

_"I, Lord Voldemort, have returned to Wizarding Society in order to continue the noble work of my ancestor, the great Salazar Slytherin. Some years ago, a prophecy was made concerning my self and a child, which stated that the child would be my equal. As a baby, the child inexplicably defeated me, but now I am reborn, stronger than before. Where is my equal? Where is this boy? Where is Harry Potter, your precious Boy-Who-Lived?_

_Yes, wizards and witches of Britain, the only one who could defeat me is dead. Destroyed by an explosion in a Muggle orphanage."_

At this point, You-Know-Who held up a copy of the Daily Prophet from five years ago, the day it broke the news to the nation that Harry Potter had indeed perished in a tragic accident. The Dark Lord's chilling address continued.

_"So, there is no-one who can defeat me. I will be your lord and master. In time, you will all kneel before me. Until such time, my faithful supporters will continue to punish those who are impure, those who are not worthy and those who oppose me. Wizards and witches of Britain, you have been warned."_

With his oration completed, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named swept regally through Diagon Alley, revelling in the fear and terror evident on the faces of those who were forced to observe him. Is our best hope to conform to this Lord's wishes? Do we dare to hope that the once-great Albus Dumbledore will protect us? How many more people will die at You-Know-Who's hand?

For further information on…

Harry threw down his copy of the newspaper and stood up quickly in his place at the Slytherin table. The anger that had risen within him as he read the article, as he read Voldemort's words caused his blood to boil. The black-haired teen strode briskly out of the Great Hall, all desire to eat breakfast totally gone. In his turmoil, Harry didn't notice the parasitic form of Draco Malfoy follow him out into the Entrance Hall.

"Hey, Black!" called the blonde boy. "The Dark Lord's words scare you, did they? Frightened by a newspaper report?"

Harry stopped in his tracks. He was half-way across the hallway when his house rival spoke in that incredibly annoying tone he possessed. Turning slowly, he saw that Malfoy had made his way across the other side of the hall, the side nearest the Slytherin dungeon, no doubt ready to make a quick escape if need be.

After taking a deep breath, Harry responded. "Did you know, Smallboy, that Muggle farmers brand their animals so they don't lose them? Does that sound like anyone you know?"

"What are you talking about, Black?"

"Taken the Mark yet, Smallboy? Been branded as one of Voldemort's faithful flock?"

Malfoy didn't respond to Harry's question, but he paled slightly, and flinched at hearing Harry say his Lord's name.

"Your silence speaks volumes. So, what does a sheep sound like, Smallboy?" Harry asked the question but didn't wait for an answer. Instead he turned away from Malfoy, heading towards the staircase that would lead him to the Room of Requirements.

"One of these days, Black," Malfoy called at Harry's retreating back.

"Baaaa!" Harry shouted over his shoulder, taunting the other boy.

By now, other students had started leaving the Great Hall and were loitering around the fringes of the Entrance Hall, observing this latest spat between the two Slytherins. It took Draco a few seconds, but when he finally comprehended the meaning of Harry's bleat, the blonde saw red. Drawing his wand, Malfoy hurriedly sent a Stunning spell at Harry.

Naomi Crabbe was one of those who were watching this argument with interest. Apart from her vocation as gossip extraordinaire she liked Harry and despised Malfoy, so she watched with her heart in her mouth from a position at the bottom of the staircase Harry had been heading for. As the short verbal fight ended, her black-haired friend was walking towards her with a smirk on his face, when a red spell began arcing across the hall towards them.

Harry heard Draco's incantation immediately, and spun around to see the Stunner speeding through the air. It was going to miss him, but Harry glanced round quickly to see his little friend Naomi standing right in the spell's path. Moving with the extreme speed ad reflexes gained from his animals, Harry was able to drag the small girl out of the way with a fraction of a second to spare. The red beam of light struck the wall behind her, causing a small cloud of dust.

"HEY!" called a deep, slow voice across the Entrance hall. Everyone turned to look at Vincent Crabbe, whose angry face left no-one unsure of his state of mind. With surprising speed for the burly boy, he crossed the hall and punched Malfoy in the face.

"That's for nearly hurting my sister."

Blood spurted out of Draco's nose, which was probably broken, if the crunching sound was any indication. Attracted by the flash of Draco's spell, Professor McGonagall appeared in the doorway to the Great Hall.

"What is going on here?" The deputy headmistress scanned round the crowd looking for a prefect, when she saw Hermione. "Miss Granger, perhaps you could explain?"

"Yes, Professor. Draco Malfoy and Adam had an argument, and as Adam was walking away, Draco fired a Stunning spell at him, but missed and nearly hit Naomi Crabbe; Adam had to pull her out of the way. Vincent Crabbe then punched Draco for nearly hurting his sister and walked off."

"Thank you Miss Granger. Mr. Malfoy, I will be speaking to Professor Snape about your punishment. However, in the meantime, I suggest Miss Parkinson escorts you to the hospital wing. Miss Crabbe, are you hurt?"

"No, Professor, Adam saved me from Malfoy's spell."

"I suggest you get to your classes then," said McGonagall to the assembled crowd. "Now!"

Harry started heading towards the Room of Requirement again when he felt a gentle tug on his arm.

"Adam? Where are you going? We've got Charms now," said Grace, who had caught up with her cousin during the excitement.

"I'm not going."

"Adam!" admonished Hermione. "You can't just…"

"I SAID I'M NOT GOING!" Harry yelled, surprising the two girls. "I'm sorry. I just…need some time alone." Without waiting to hear them answer, Harry marched away, disappearing into a shadowy corridor and out of sight. The cousins look at each other for a moment, before both coming to the same conclusion.

"We need to find Ginny."

It was after the day's first lesson that Grace and Hermione managed to find their younger friend. Although the afternoon's lessons had been cancelled so the students could prepare for the ball, those scheduled for the morning still went ahead. After leaving Professor Flitwick's Charms class, the cousins raced around the school trying to find Ginny before she started her next class. As it turned out, the red-head was free second period and had gone to the library to study. The phoenix within her was restless, however, as if it could sense something was wrong **- **Ginny was generally a late riser and had missed the morning's showdown between Harry and Malfoy. The feeling of unease within Ginny grew throughout her first lesson, and even though she tried valiantly to concentrate on her Herbology text book, the nagging doubt remained.

Grace, who took less courses than her studious cousin, also had no class during the second period, and carried on looking for Ginny, finally tracking her down in the library. After the Hufflepuff had explained what had happened, and how Harry had stormed off, Ginny quickly packed her things away and headed to the Room of Requirements.

Although very few people knew about the Room, Harry, it seemed, had cast some charm on the door, preventing entry to anyone else. With only one option available to Ginny, she checked the corridor. When she sawno-one, the phoenix was commanded to appear and transport Ginny into the room. Arriving just inside the door, Ginny was surprised to find the room was presenting itself as a dense forest. A long way into the distance, she could hear the faint sounds of explosions and crashing. Running with the endurance of a fox, Ginny was soon nearing the source of the noise.

In a clearing in the magically created forest, Harry was repeatedly summoning from the room stone statues of a tall man with a strange serpentine appearance. Each time the statue appeared, he would summon a ball of the deepest, darkest black magic he could manage into each hand, before hurling them at the target. The ground of the clearing was covered in dust and rubble; the remains of hundreds of obliterated statues.

"Adam?" Ginny called, softly.

Harry turned when he heard the calming, gentle voice. Ginny gasped when she saw him; he was grey with dust, but his face and bare hands were covered in blood. Blood from numerous tiny lacerations where he had been struck by flying shards of stone.

"Hello Ginny," he whispered in reply.


	9. In which it is the end of the beginning

This is the FINAL CHAPTER of this story. A million thanks to SNB hugs. Many thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. I will respond to all the review comments when I can – things were crazy last week.

Chapter 9: In which it is the end of the beginning

The current sight of Harry was sore to the flame-haired girl's eyes, but nonetheless, she walked up to him and placed a hand gently to his left cheek. "You are covered in blood. Let's get you cleaned up and then we can talk."

The words were simple, and on their own lacking in any depth of meaning, but to Harry, Ginny's voice was like a warm breeze on acool summer's evening, the smell of freshly baked pies, wafting across a garden, or the soft, calming trill of aphoenix's song. He nodded slightly in response to her words. Ginny withdrew her hand, and saw blood from Harry's many cuts upon her palm and fingers. With a silent thought, sheasked the Room of Requirements to get rid ofany trace of the stone statues that Harry had been venting his anger on. In a heartbeat, the rubble, stone fragments and dust vanished, leaving a much cleaner Harry, notwithstanding the red and brown of both wet and dried blood that streaked his face and hands.

Next, Ginny requested a bowl of warm water and a soft cloth, which materialisedon the ground beside them. She guided Harry to his knees, knelt before him and began to bathe his wounds. She started with his left hand, slowly, gently and deftly taking time to wash each finger, his palm, the back of his hand and up his bare wrists. The cloth was quickly stained, and the water soon became a dull red. Once the whole of Harry's left hand had been cleansed lovingly by Ginny, she held the hand between her own and healed all the tiny wounds, in the same way Harry used to heal injured animals he would find in the forest. With Harry's left hand finished, she silently and diligently repeated the process on his right hand.

Harry did not notice that the phoenix had been in the treetops of the magically created woods, and had been singing a tune of hope and comfort until it stopped and flew to Ginny's side. Before Ginny began to wash Harry's face, with a third clean bowl and cloth, she had the phoenix cry some tears into the water. She began to wipe softly at his neck, working carefully from one side to the other. Every fraction of his skin was touched by the cleansing and healing water, as the soft material glided warmly across his cheeks, his nose, ears, eyes and forehead. Finally, after nearly an hour of careful, loving attention, Ginny banished the bowl, water and cloth with a thought. She cupped his face between her hands and planteda soft, passionate kiss on his lips.

"It's time to talk."

As her voice floated around him, sights and sounds and smells of the make-believe forestmelted away, leaving behind the warmth of a cosy room, furnished with a plump and inviting sofa, which was placed before a flickering log fire. Harry allowed himself to be guided to the seat on to which he fell back with carefree abandonment. Ginny sat beside him, her feet tucked up underneath herso she was facing the young man she adored.

Unsure of how to get Harry talking, Ginny asked a question that she hoped would draw him into a discussion. "The statues. Who was it?"

"Voldemort."

"How do you…?"

"My dreams. I see him in my dreams."

"Oh."

After a few minutes of silence, it was Harry who spoke next. "Did you see the Prophet this morning?"

"No, I slept late and missed breakfast," she said, grinning sheepishly. "Grace found me in the library after first period and told me that something happened between you andMalfoy and that you seemed really mad. She didn't say anything about the _Daily Prophet_ though."

"It seems that Voldemort is scaling up his attacks and becoming more confident. In Diagon Alley yesterday, having sent in Death Eaters to subdue thestreet, he appeared himself and made a little speech. It was all in the _Prophet _today"

Ginny sensed thatHarry was beginning to tense up as he spoke, so she shifted slightly and rested her right hand on his arm. "Whatever it is Harry, it can't affect us in here. Try to stay calm."

Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to relax, at least a little bit. He looked into Ginny's beautiful brown eyes, and seeing nothing but compassion, he continued his explanation. "He said that because Harry Potter is dead, there's no-one who can oppose him. The world is going to kneel before him and call him master, and there's no-one to stand in his way. I know it's not rational, but I feel like he's killing in my name. I'm afraid it does affect me in here, because I feel sick like I've never felt before. I'm angry, confused and scared all at the same time. I don't know what to do, Ginny."

Ginny was thoughtful as she tried to digest everything that Harry had just told her. Not knowing what she could say at the moment that could possibly help, she settled instead for physical comfort, and climbed round onto his lap, put her arms around his neck and hugged him for all she was worth.

"How do you always know exactly what I need?" Harry mumbled into the top of her head.

"I didn't know what to say, so I went with a hug."

"Sometimes, it's best to say nothing at all."

The pair held onto each other for a long time, neither speaking, but both drawing comfort from the other. Finally, Harry realised he was ready to talk again. Ginny moved off his lap and retook her spot at the other end of the sofa, facing him.

"I've spent ten years convincing myself that Harry Potter no longer exists. The Boy-Who-Lived was a fantasy, killed off by the very society that was trying to keep him sheltered. But the moment someone uses that name, takes advantage of it, it's made my blood boil and filled me with desire to set the record straight.

The trouble is, Gin, that then my Slytherin side kicks in, and reminds me that the people out there think Harry Potter is some kind of incredible hero. A saviour. If I come forward they'll be expecting a warrior who will lead them to safety. Who's going to want me? A fifteen year old Slytherin kid. The world needs and wants a hero, something I don't want to be."

"But you are a hero already, Adam. To me. To all the birds and animals in the forest who you've healed when they werehurt. You're their champion. You're my champion and I believe in you."

"So what would you have me do? Put myself on the line for a society that will revere me one moment and cast me down the next should I not meet their expectations? Should I continue to live my own life, as Adam Black and let Voldemort slowly take over the world?"

"I think you know in your heart what you are going to do. You may not see it but you are special. You do so many things that most wizards and witches don't even realise are possible. You are far stronger than you think, and I don't just mean physically. Your true strength lies in your head and heart. I have no doubt that you can be who you were born to be and not disappoint anyone. You'll show the world how to fight for their beliefs. How to do the right thing." 

"You really believe that I'm strong? That I can stand up to Voldemort?"

"I believe you can be the people's hope, that you can lead the fight."

"What if I am not strong enough?"

"Then I will be strong for you. I give you my promise." As Ginny spoke these last five words, and held on to Harry's hands, a faint golden glow surrounded them.

"You just made another bond between us…"

"I know. I'll always be there for you, Harry."

The pair spent time alone together in the room, talking some more, eating food that the Room provided when they got hungry and to a certain extent, being affectionate with each other as teenagers are known to be. At around four o'clock in the afternoon, Harry untangled himself from Ginny and looked pointedly at his watch.

"So, Gin, seeing as you're a girl and all, I guess it'll take you hours to get ready for the ball."

"Pratt. Are you saying that once I put on my robes I will need hours of further work to make myself beautiful?"

"Err…no?"

"I should think not," Ginny teased. "But I would like to have a shower and watch my dorm-mates run around like headless chickens looking for the perfect shade of lipstick."

"OK…whatever makes you happy," laughed Harry. "I'm going to stay here a bit longer, though, and think through a few things. Our robes are in Moony's office, OK?"

"Thank you. I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall then, at seven?"

"Yeah. I can't wait to see how amazing you'll look."

"Me, too!"

They got up from the sofa and Harry walked Ginny towards the Room's magical door. "Ginny?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Thank you. Thank you for being with me today. You made me strong when I felt weak. You gave me hope when I feltonly despair. I…" Ginny was staring deep into his bright green eyes; she was the only person who could really manage to do so. "I love you."

It took a few moments, but Ginny's look of surprise quickly transformed intoa wide grin. She flung herself into his arms and squeezed him as hard as she could, reaching up and whispering into his ear. "I love you, too."

Somewhere, perhaps in another plane of existence, in an alternate universe or somewhere else equally incomprehensible, the being known to its peers as Love whooped triumphantly and danced a short victory jig. Not far away, another being, known as Hate, grumbled and cursed.

"Now now, Hate. That's not really appropriate language for a supreme being, is it?" Love called down the table, around which these beings stood.

"And gloating is?" Hate retorted.

Across the table, another being watched the eternally bickering pair, an amused smile gracing her lips as the tattoos of thousands of creatures moved silently across her body.

As soon as those four magical words escaped Ginny's lips, Harry gasped for breath and slumped against her. The smaller girl could not manage the sudden weight upon her and did her best to lower her boyfriend to the floor. Harry's head span as he struggled for breath, and he slowly slid sideways from his sitting position against the door, to the floor. Within a few moments, he was unconscious.

Ginny was generally a level-headed young woman, but faced with an unconscious boyfriend whose body was slumped against the only exit caused her alarm. Unable to rouse the boy, with a single thought, she dispatched her phoenix to find Remus, completely disregardingwhat the werewolf might currently be doing. Within a few seconds, although it seemed far longer to the distressed girl, a flash of flame signified the phoenix's return, only now its talons were grasped firmly onto the robes of Harry's guardian, who knelt down immediately next to him and gently lifted his upper body into his arms.

"What happened?"

"I was giving him a hug when he just gasped for breath, all of a sudden, and slumped onto me. I sat him down but he continued to gasp. After a few moments he keeled over." Tears were rolling down the girl's cheeks and the Professor spoke to her gently.

"I can't see anything wrong. We'll have to take him to see Madam Pomfrey."

"But he's blocking the door," Ginny cried, not really thinking rationally anymore.

"It's OK, Ginny. I can carry him."

Barely a few minutes later, Remus Lupinrushed into the Hospital wing, banging open the double doors, his precious ward cradled in his arms.

"Poppy! Poppy!" the wolf called as he tenderly placed Harry on the first emptybed.

Ginny, who had trailed along behind her Professor, sat in the chair to the left of the bed, and continued to sob quietly. Hearing Remus' cry, the matron swiftly bustled out of her office at the far end of the ward. With surprising speed for a woman of her age, she was at Harry's bedside in no-time, wand in hand.

"Can you tell me what happened, Remus?" the nurse asked as she cast diagnostic spells over Adam's still body.

"According to Ginny, he just suddenly began struggling to breathe, and lost consciousness in a few minutes."

"I see," said the Healer, without taking her eyes off the patient. "Miss Weasley, had the two of you been engaged in any kind of strenuous activity prior to this incident?"

"No, Madam Pomfrey. We'd been mostly talking since this morning. I was just giving him a hug when…" Remus moved a little so he could place a comforting hand on Ginny's shoulder.

"What's wrong with him, Poppy?" heasked, his voiced laced with concern for his adopted child.

"As far as I can tell, Remus, there's nothing wrong at all."

"I don't understand," Ginny cried out. "He couldn't breath. He's unconscious."

"Please child, let me explain," Madam Pomfrey said kindly. "Mr. Black is perfectly healthy, from a physiological perspective. Something appears to have triggered a growth in his magical core, and his body has shut down so that it can recharge this new core. Do you understand?"

"I think so," Ginny replied, with a sniff.

"When will he wake up?" Remus asked the Healer.

"It's hard to say. It's not unheard of for this to happen, but it is rare, especially in teenagers. Usually the growth of the magical core is gradual, and takes place from around age eight to sixteen, so it goes by unnoticed. The last time I saw this happen, the girl awoke after about an hour, if I remember correctly."

"Thank you, Poppy. It's a great relief to know he'll be fine in a little while."

"I expect he'll be more than fine, Remus. He'll be bouncing off the walls!"

As Ginny moved from the chair and perched on the edge of the bed so she could stroke Harry's black hair out of his eyes, Remus followed Madam Pomfrey to her office.

An hour later, Ginny was still sitting on the side of Harry's bed, holding one of his hands and caressing it lovingly. In the chair beside her was Sirius Black. Remus had gone to his office a while before, but he now was walking up to the bed.

"It's been over an hour now, Moony. He should be awake, shouldn't he?"

"It was only a guess, Padfoot. You know Adam...he never does anything by half, does he?" The two Marauders shared a chuckle, as they each recalled Harry's antics over the years.

"Will you tell me about him?" Ginny asked the two men suddenly. "What was he like as a child?"

It was well after eight o'clock when Harry finally awoke from his coma. As his eyes cracked open, the bright light of the sterile Hospital ward took him by surprise, and he quickly closed them again. From somewhere close by, he could hear the beautiful sound of Ginny, laughing heartily. Listening for a few minutes, he heard his Godfather's voice telling his girlfriend stories of his childhood, to her extreme amusement.

"Did you tell her how I beat you in a duel when I was only ten years old?"

"To be fair, Adam, I did have…ADAM? You're awake."

Ginny's growing reflexes and speed meant she moved to hug Harry far quicker than Sirius. "Thank goodness. I was so worried."

"I'm OK now, Gin. Actually, I feel great." Harry struggled up into a sitting position, and continued to hug the red-haired girl. "What are you doing here, Padfoot?"

"Well, kiddo. Moony Flooed to the cottageand told me you'd fallen into a coma. I thought it'd be the right thing to pop in and check up on you."

"And tell my girlfriend embarrassing stories about me?"

"Why look a gift horse in the mouth, kiddo?"

"So, are you really OK? Do you know what happened to you?" Ginny asked Harry, sounding really concerned).

"Actually, I had the weirdest dream. Let's go to the Room of Requirements and I'll explain it." Harry got off the hospital bed and headed out of the infirmary.

"Should we get Professor Lupin?" Ginny asked.

"I'll get him," Sirius said. "He wanted to stick his head in on the Ball."

"Oh, crap!" cried Harry. "We're missing the Ball. We can play with my new power another time…"

"Hang on, kiddo. How do you know that's what happened? You've been unconscious for hours," Sirius asked, confused by Harry's knowledge of what had come about him.

Harry stopped marching down the corridor, and turned to Ginny, who had been desperately trying to keep up with the excited boy. "Ginny. It's up to you; do you want to go to the ball, or hear my story?"

"The story will keep until tomorrow. Let's go to the Ball."

"Fine. The robes are in Moony's office. Do you need to go back to Gryffindor Tower or can you get ready in Moony's rooms?"

"So long as he's got a shower we can use…not at the same time, Sirius...Professor Lupin's quarters will be fine."

"Come on then," Harry encouraged, before whispering to his Godfather. "I can't believe you were thinking of that, Padfoot."

"How did she…?"

"Trust me, you old dog, she always knows."

Under the masterful direction of Professors Flitwick and Dumbledore, the Great Hall had been transformed into a truly incredible sight. What was previously a large, drab room with stone walls and floors, had become a glittering palace of silver and white. Four enormous Christmas trees lined each side of the hall, and each was beautifully decorated with everlasting candles, tiny glowing snow-fairies along with traditional baubles and tinsel. Every surface in the hall had been coated with a magical twinkling frost effect, so that every table, chair, suit of armour and tapestry looked as if they had been left outside in the freezing night's air.

The four house tables had been removed for the evening, and in order to promote a more intimate atmosphere, round tables, each with ten places, were laid out in their place. Each table was draped with a crisp white damask cloth, with silver threads running through it, whilst the formal chairs, in place of the usual wooden benches, were upholstered with the same fabric. The front portion of the Hall, in front of the raised platform where the staff table stood, had been laid with awhite marble dance floor.

The tables had been dressed with fine silver and white china, shiny pewter goblets and exquisite goblin-wrought silver candlesticks. In the middle of each table was a centrepiece of perfect white roses, arum lilies and Singapore orchids. Each and every couple that entered the Great Hall that night was struck by its grandeur.

Harry and Ginny held each other's hand tightly as they approached the double doors that led into the Great Hall. They could hear the tinkling of silver, the scraping of chairs being moved, the merry laughter and thumping of music; it was after nine o'clock by the time they had gotten dressed, and the formal post-dinner music had already given way to something more appealing to the contemporary tastes of the older student population.

Their robes were magnificent, and would surely attract people's attention. This, combined with the closeness that the pair was intent on displaying, meant that the usually private couple would face close scrutiny tonight. Steeling themselves, they stepped through the doors into the Hall and both gasped in amazement at the majesty of the scene.

As the pair slowly made their way through the maze of small round tables, haphazardly-strewn chairs andchatting or otherwise occupied couples, all who saw them stopped to look in amazement. Reaching the dance floor, the throng of dancing teenagers moved apart, stepping back in awe at the couple who arrived late to the ball. The band played on, and Harry and Ginny, aware of the attention they were receiving but fighting with all their might to ignore it, held each other close and began to dance.

Professor McGonagall had noticed a disturbance on the floor, and had stood in her position at the head table, to try and see what had caused the disruption. In a space alltheir own, she saw them.

Ginny Weasley was dressed in a robes of the deepest red– if passion had a colour, this would be it. It toned perfectly with the girl's hair, which fell simply and elegantly down her back. The hems and cuffs and collar were trimmed with black, and all the material was of the finest silk money could buy. Harry's robes was made of the same fine silk and apart from the cut, was of the same style as Ginny's, although the colours were reversed. The robe was black as the dead of night. As black as shadow. On the back of Ginny's robes, emblazoned in bright fire-coloured embroidery, was the image of a spread-eagled phoenix. Although only Harry knew it, it was an exact replica of the tattoo on her left arm. On Harry's back, embroidered in the same colour as Ginny's robes, was the face of the panther, a copy of the image that adorned Harry's back.

As magnificent as these robes were - the obvious quality, the perfect colours and the incredible embroidery needlework – it was something else that made them extraordinary. Around the bottom of each set of robes were flames, in Ginny's case black, flawless black, and Harry's were the same fiery red as Ginny's phoenix. The astonishing thing about these flames was that they were flickering and dancing around the fabric as if burning an invisible source of fuel.

After a time, the excitement over the pair's robes died down and the partying students continued dancing, talking and all else. Ron and Hermione, who were attending the Ball as a couple, were sitting at one of the smaller round tables, when Ron surprisingly started talking about fashion.

"I've been to a few parties and whatnot, at the Ministry mostly, but I've never seen robes like theirs before."

Hermione nodded in agreement."I can't begin to imagine the charms that must have gone into making them. I wonder if Ginny knows."

"No, she doesn't."

"How do you know?"

"Adam's relative arranged it all. Sirius Black; do you remember him?"

"Of course, Ronald. It's not as if you haven't mentioned him before, or what happened in the summer."

"I'm just proud of what I…" The red-head broke off when he noticed thathis date was deliberately winding him up, and was sittinglooking at him with a big grin on her face. "Ha ha! Those colours and the flame patterns, they just look so perfect on them, don't they?"

"Yeah, you're right," Hermione agreed.

"Black as shadow and red as fire. Yes, suits them perfectly," Ron continued, talking to him self more than anything.

"What did you say?" Hermione asked suddenly.

"Err…that the colours suit them perfectly."

"No, before that; the words you said about black and red."

"Um…black as shadow and red as fire. Why all the…?"

"Shadow and fire," the girl whispered to herself. "Shadow and fire."

"Mental!" the red-haired boy mutteredunder his breath.

"Come on!" said Hermione suddenly, jumping up from her seat and starting to tug on her date's arm.

"Where are we going?" Ron asked, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and half dragged out of the Great Hall.

"To the library," the bushy-haired Gryffindor called back over her shoulder. "I know where to find the answer."

"The answer to what?" demandedRon, who was still more than a little confused.

"Boy in black and girl in red. I remembered where I read about it before."

"Oh."

Back in the Great Hall, the ballcontinued, unaffected by the swift departure of two Fifth Year Gryffindors. Those who saw them leavein such a hurry most likely assumed they were rushing off to find a quiet alcove or unoccupied broom cupboard. As the Gryffindor couple exited through the Great Hall's main doors, a new arrival, even later than Harry and Ginny, staggered through the small door behind the staff table. The door led into an antechamber, a room through which the staff could access the rest of the castle, without having to wade through the throngs of students using the Entrance Hall.

The latecomer to the party was a woman rarely seen about the castle. She wore strange clothes, even for wizards, had large glasses and smelled strongly of cooking sherry. As she tottered precariously towards the staff table, she headed towards the headmaster, who stood and greeted her amiably.

"Sybill, this is unexpected. How nice of you to join us."

"Thank you, headmaster. I was gazing into the mists of the crystal ball when my Inner Eye showed me to be here in the Great Hall. Naturally, I came as…" The airy, affected voice trailed away. The Divination professor's eyes glazed over and her voice had an ethereal, rasping edge to it when she spoke again. "_The ancient prophecy is being fulfilled; they have united..._"

Deep in the heart of the Forbidden Forest, a phenomenon that hadn't occurred in many years was taking place. Hundreds of centaurs, male and female, young and old, were gathered to hear the words of the Council of Elders, whichhad been summoned by two of the Forbidden Forest's native herd. Finally, the waiting was over. The case had been presented by the two centaurs called Firenze and Magorian and the Elders had ruminated. The eldest of them all addressed the assembly.

"Fellow Guardians of the Forests," he cried. "Firenze and Magorian, from this ancient forest have presented compelling information…"

"_Man of black shadow; woman of red fire…_"

Ron slumped into his usual chair at the table in the library where the group of friends sat to study during the evenings and weekends. Hermione, whom he had now officially certified as 'mental', was swiftly scanninga shelf filled with especially large and old tomes. After a minute's searching, she found the one she needed and brought it to the table.

"I know it's in here somewhere…" she muttered to herself as she thumbed quickly but carefully through the ancient pages."It's an old Centaurean legend…"

"A what?" Ron asked, slightly more interested now that the search was nearly at an end.

"Centaurean – made by the Centaurs," she explained without looking up. "Yes! I've found it…"

"_Joined in word, soul, magic and destiny…_"

Dumbledore listened to the strange woman deliver her second real prophecy, his mind whirling as his aged ears took in the words. Ancient prophecy…united…black shadow…red fire…prophecy…shadow…fire…

Suddenly, the Seer's words made some semblance of sense in the brilliant mind of the headmaster. According to Sybill Trelawney, the ancient legend of the Centaurs was coming to pass; the Shadowfire Prophecy.

"_All who oppose them will perish…_"

"OK, Ron, listen to this. _'Since before the founding of Hogwarts, perhaps even before the existence of Merlin, the Centaurs of the world have believed in a myth, known as "The Legend of Dark Flame". The legend tells of a witch and a wizard with an entwined destiny, who will unite and brutally purge the lands of ne'er-do-wells. The woman shall be associated with the colour red, through love, passion, honesty and blood. The man shall __be associated__ with black, through despair and darkness. The pair shall be lovers, and will cast aside any who stand against them. In wizarding folklore, the legend is also referred to as "The Shadowfire Prophecy".'"_

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Ron. "You think Adam and Ginny are…?"

"Yes. And although I don't like to say it…" The girl paused.

"What?"

"Bloody hell!"

"_Those in their way shall be brutally swept aside…_"

"…behold, fellow Guardians of the Forest. Look up to the cloudless night sky. See how Mars burns in the darkness, with the brightness of fire, yet no other star can be seen this night. This is the sign, written by the Centaurean soothsayers of ancient times. The Legend of Dark Flame has come to pass. The awakening of Shadowfire has begun."

"_The ancient prophecy is fulfilling. They have united._"

As Sybill Trelawney finished her proclamation, she slumped into the seat that Albus Dumbledore had risen from to greet her. His eyes were frantically scanning the studentshim; desperately searching for two people in particular. It could only be them. The way they carried themselves, the way they were with each other. The way they looked. The power they clearly possessed. Finally, in a corner of the Great Hall, after a few minutes of searching, he saw them. There was no doubt in the wizened educator's mind that these two youngsters were indeed, united.

Completely oblivious to what was happening around them, and totally unaware of the Divination professor's oratory, Harry and Ginny were locked together in what could only be described as a passionate embrace while a faint red glow pulsedaround them.

A/N - Btw, I will be writing a sequel!


End file.
